


Of The Monsters In His Bed

by my_unlikely_hero



Series: Avengers Drabbles [10]
Category: Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Dummy is here, F/F, Homophobia, Incest, Kidnapping, M/M, Prostitution, Stucky - Freeform, Swearing, Ten Rings, Tony has a habit of sleeping with monsters, lots and lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_unlikely_hero/pseuds/my_unlikely_hero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Carter is --was-- Tony Stark. Now he's hiding from Howard with some asshole called Ty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, read the warnings. I've been writing this for ages and it's dark. It's uber dark. Frodo's short sword couldn't light up this fic.

The ally is cold and Tony’s jeans are soaked through from kneeling on the ground. It’s been raining for hours, and his shirt and hair are clinging to him. RENT, GROCERIES, CAT FOOD, Tony thinks, hollowing his cheeks. The john in front of him is taking his time, the bastard; he’s ringing every second out of a twenty dollar blow job.

Tony’s cold and hungry and just wants to go back to the apartment and change out of these clothes. But he’s also desperate, so here he stays. He needs groceries- the apartment is empty of everything resembling food, and he hasn’t eaten all weekend. Dummy will need more cat food soon. Rent is due next Friday and they need two hundred dollars to make it. Ty was off doing who knows what, probably sniffing and drinking their money away. 

It wasn't always this bad-- Tony wasn't always a whore. Usually he worked at SHIELD Auto, for Fury. It was only part time, but it was under the table and Nick usually overpaid him anyway. After all, he really only hired Tony to keep him off the street-- not that it worked, but it helped. In fact, Tony would have been fine but Ty spent all the money on partying, and dipped out last week, but left most of his stuff at their little studio apartment. 

The John drops a ten dollar bill onto the alley floor and walk away before Tony’s even off his knees. Tony earns another fifty dollars getting fucked against a dumpster, the guy laughing in Tony's ear, and telling him how loose he is. The first time he had heard it, he had cried from the humiliation, but now it doesn’t even sting his pride- he has none. It’s after 2am, and Tony calls it quits. He's exhausted. 

Ty is still out when Tony finally crawls into bed with Dummy, cold and sore, and sleeps fitfully. He dreams of Howard's belt across his ass, of his father's heavy hands beating him, forcing a younger version of Tony into submission. It morphs. The older man, pinning him down and hurting him, but whispering what a good boy he was; ‘take it Tony; you’re so good like this. So much better.’ Because really, that’s all he was ever any good at, was taking cock. He was a whore even before he hit the streets. 

Tony wakes to the apartment door slamming- Tyberius must be home. Dummy skitters underneath the bed, the safest place for him. Tony looks at the clock, bleary-eyed; it’s after 4am. Tony has to be up in less than an hour anyways to shower and dress in time to catch the 7am bus for his morning shift at Furys. 

“Babe,” Ty calls from outside the bedroom. He sounds drunk. Tony feigns sleep as his boyfriend stumbles in, and flops heavily onto the bed. 

Tony ignores him, hoping his boyfriend will just pass out and sleep it off. But no, that’s not Tony’s luck. A heavy hand squeezes Tony’s bare shoulder, and shakes him roughly. Tony pulls away with a yelp. 

“The fuck, Ty, what the shit,” Tony growls, rubbing at the sore spot. 

“Where th’hell you been”, Ty slurs. He grips Tony’s hair too tight and kisses the smaller man too hard. Apparently that was a rhetorical question. It ignites Tony's anger, because he just wanted to fucking sleep in peace, okay? But apparently that was not happening. 

“Where the hell have I been? Where the actual FUCK have you been? Where the fuck is our rent money? And the grocery money?”

“Shut the fuck up, that was my money. And I can do whatever the fuck I want with it, you stupid bitch.” He sort of goes to backhand Tony, but he's drunk and Tony shoves him backwards as hard as he can. 

“That was our rent money! And our grocery money, what the fuck were Dummy and I supposed to do without any goddamned money, Tyberius?” 

They both stand across the room, screaming at each other. 

“I don't give a damn what you and that stupid fucking cat do. You're nothing but a whore, and I hate that fucking cat! I'd kill it if it didn't fucking claw the shit out of me from under the damn bed.” 

“If I see you hurt my cat, I'll kill you,” Tony growls. He is shaking with anger, furious at this scumbag for stealing their rent money, and leaving Tony alone again with no money until the end of the month. 

Ty stalks forward, and Tony doesn't budge. He isn't afraid of him right now. Ty grabs Tony's shirt collar, giving him a good shake. “You don't scare me. You weak little twink, what are you going to do, scratch me? Like your fucking cat?” 

Tony punches him in the eye. As soon as he does it, he knows he is in deep shit. But Ty is blocking the door. As soon as he recovers-- only seconds later-- he's on Tony like a man possessed. He tackles him to the ground, pinning Tony's small weight beneath his own. Tony screams at him to get off, to go to hell. Ty hits his face, his head, his shoulders and chest; but mostly he hits Tony's arms, where he's blocking most of the blows. They're aching, begging from the abuse. 

“Stop! Jesus, stop, stop!” 

He doesn't, of course. He stands and Tony curls further into himself. He gives Tony a few good kicks to his back, and sides, his hips already bruised from strangers hands. He stops the abuse long enough to take off his own pants, and strips Tony of his Captain America boxers-- no superheroes around to save him now. 

Tony is left bruised and biting down pained cries by the end, but-- well, nobody’s really around to care and it was nothing new. Howard had a bigger cock than Tyberius did, anyway. Tony lies awake after, thoroughly ignoring his aching ass, and waits for Ty to pass out. Not enough lube and too much enthusiastic fucking has left him feeling bruised and stretched out. Raw.

Tony sneaks off to the shower. The water is lukewarm, but it’s better than sitting in bed feeling Ty’s come drip out of his ass. It hurts to clean himself out, but he does so in a hurry, and dresses for work. He tries to wear comfortable clothes, but they’re all threadbare and holy. Too cold for a rainy day, even if he chooses a long-sleeved shirt and jeans without holes above those in the knees. 

He shivers on the walk to the bus stop, the hood of his jacket doing little against the cold and the rain. He feels kind of awful- he’s sore and cold and tired. His stomach growls. He can pick up a pack of ramen noodles on his way home after class tonight, but he will have to suffer until then, despite his protesting stomach. 

He walks past a bakery smelling of doughnuts and coffee, and his stomach rumbles loudly. He indulges himself for a moment, stopping at the window to stare longingly at the food. Sometimes he thinks it might have been easier to try and figure things out with Howard. Sure, he was getting fucked and hit either way, but at least with Howard it was JUST Howard. No whoring on the side to make ends meet, no being the main entertainment for Ty's friends. 

“Hey, kid.” Tony didn't notice the police man step out of the shop, bag full of fresh treats, and stop to look at Tony. 

“Hey. I wasn't going to cause trouble. Just looking, don't worry.” He says defensively, rolls his eyes. As a rule, he has a strong dislike of police. They had never helped him before, it was improbable one would start now. 

Tony glares as he shoulders past the taller man. Cute or not, he probably thought Tony was plotting to rob the shop. He probably looked like a junky, torn skinny jeans and ragged hoody, face pinched from neglect. The hood probably didn't hide the bruises there, either. It was best to just keep walking. Besides, he had a job to get to. 

His stomach growls again, but he has to ignore it. He doesn't have even have a dime in his wallet, he can't afford to buy anything. 

“Whoa there. Easy, I wasn't accusing you of anything. I bought too many doughnuts, I was wondering if you'd take a couple off my hands for me.” 

“Nobody accidentally buys too many doughnuts. There's no such thing as too many doughnuts.” He is eyeing the man suspiciously. 

“Well then, how ‘bout I suddenly changed my mind about enforcing the policemen doughnut stereotype. You want these or not, kid?”

“I'm not a charity case,” he snaps. 

“Didn't say ya were,” his Brooklyn accent is thick. 

“No thanks.” Tony knew nothing came free. Down the road, this man-- police or not-- would want something from him. Past experience tells him it would be more than Tony would be willing to pay. 

“No offense, pal, but you look broke and hungry. I been there. So, here.” He offered the bag again at arms length. “Stevie’ll tear me a new one if I let a hungry kid walk away.”

“I'm not a kid.”

“No? How old are you? You look 17,” he grins, teasing. He's devastatingly handsome. 

“21,” he lies. He is 19, but he made his Tony Carter ID 21 for obvious reasons. And if anyone finds out hes really 19 year old Tony Stark, it's back to Howards for him. Fuck that. It was sick of him to want to go back to his father. 

“You're, like, seven younger than me. But still, take them-- it'll ease my conscious.”

“What do you want?”

“How ‘bout your name?”

Tony nods. He should lie, but for some reason he doesn't. “Tony. My name is Tony.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Tony. I'm James Barnes, but call me Bucky.” 

“Well then, thanks. Bucky.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ty calls Tony somewhere around 3 in a surly mood, half hungover from the night before. He demands that Tony come home and clean the apartment, take care of him, do the grocery shopping-- ha, like they have money for groceries, yeah right-- and a bunch of other bullshit. 

Tony has to wait for the bus while it rains. He might as well have just flirted with Bucky a little, but Tony shakes the thought out of his head. He has a boyfriend, he knows better than to check out other guys, even if they did have gorgeous eyes and lips that should be outlawed. Tyberius is the possessive type. 

Ty gets pissier than normal when he is hungover, and his cure-all solution is to beat Tony all afternoon. Ty pushes Tony into walls, watching him bounce off and get back up, and slaps him frequently. The open-palmed blows sting, but don’t do any real damage, but after a few hours Ty gets angry and starts throwing whatever is at hand to catch his boyfriend's attention, instead of calling after him. 

Ty has Tony fetch beers until his hangover is replaced with a new drunken rage. Those stray blows escalate into a full beating.

“Are you stupid? Is that it? You can’t go from one room to another without dropping fucking everything?” Tyberius yells, turning red in the face. His breath smells like beer. 

“It was an accident,” Tony counters. He knows it isn’t what Ty wants to hear, knows he shouldn’t argue, but can’t seem to help himself. 

“You’re a fucking accident! You’re useless. I don't know why I even keep you around, cheap little tramp.”

Ty screams at him as he kicks Tony on the ground- not sure how he wound up there instead of the sofa, but it doesn’t matter. There is broken glass on the floor from Tony dropping a beer when he was unceremoniously pushed into the table, his thin hips banged and bruised against the edge. 

Ty throws another bottle down at Tony, and watches it shatter. Tony lets out a gasp of pain as shards dig themselves into the skin of his cheek. Satisfied, Ty stumbles to the bedroom. 

After a few minutes, Tony slips into the bathroom to shower. He catches his reflection in the mirror- deep bruises under his eyes from so many days without proper rest, and his lips swollen and split. Blood drips down his cheek into the sink as Tony picks glass bits out of the wound. He gets in the shower. 

The water is cold, but at least he was alone for a few moments. The cold water eases the ache in some of his muscles and bruises. But it isn’t long before Ty steps in behind him, naked and half-hard. Still drunk, too. Tony slaps at his hands as they wander over Tony’s bruised torso. 

“No, Ty. Get out, I’m not in the mood.”

“I don’t mean to, babe. You know that. You just make me so damn mad sometimes.” Ty says this like he isn’t mad at Tony about something all of the time. 

“You hit me in the face with a bottle,” he growls, pulling away from Ty’s kisses on his neck. 

“Don’t be like that, babe. I didn’t mean to.” 

“Fuck off, Ty.” Tony steps out of the shower, disappointed at the loss of his privacy. 

“I’d rather fuck you.” Ty wraps a hand around Tony’s wrist, tight enough to hurt- to bruise, not that it matters. 

Tony twists away, pulling against the grip, and Tyberius yank him back. Ain shoots up his wrist, before it feels cold and vaguely numb. Tony knows it’s a sprain. He will have to wrap it later. 

“Calm the fuck down, babe. I’m just making it up to you,” Ty says, pulling Tony close. 

“Well I- I am- I am really not interested,” Tony pulls against the hold, even as pain lances up his arm. “So just leave me alone.”

Ty pulls him closer, his other hand grabbing a handful of Tony’s ass, squeezing before he grabs Tony’s free wrist, holding them and pinning them behind the boy. Ty forces him face first against the shower wall.

“Quit it! Knock it off, Ty, you're hurting me.”

Tony protests again- uselessly- until Ty twists on that wrist again and Tony yelps. It’s a warning. He stops wiggling when he feels the blunt head of the bigger man’s cock pressing against him. 

“Shut up, already,” is the warning Tony gets before Ty is entering him unceremoniously. 

Apparently whiskey dick isn’t an issue tonight. Actually, Ty fucks the little brunette up against the shower until Tony’s legs go numb. Eventually Ty passes out in bed and leaves Tony alone to lick his wounds. 

That night, Tony sleeps fitfully on the torn sofa, and is out for work extra early. He arrives early enough that the garage door is still locked, and Tony curls up in the hall to wait. His shift ends at eleven AM and Tony wanders about the neighborhood. He's exhausted, practically asleep on his feet already. He sits down on a bench to rest. 

 

Bucky went through his day with Steve that evening as they cooked dinner together. 

“Just my type, huh?” Steve teases him. 

“Oh, yeah, Stevie. Pretty eyes, messy brown hair; he was adorable.” 

“You sure do have a knack for adopting the little guy,” Steve adds, smiling. Bucky laughs.

“What’s that say about you, pal?” 

“Not so little any more,” Steve points out. 

“Still a little punk,” Bucky teases, kissing Steve’s jaw as he passes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Jerk,” the blonde shoots back. 

Bucky sleeps like the dead curled up next to Steve. The next morning Steve wakes him up at 6, in time to get ready for class while Steve goes for his run. 

When he returns, they shower-- and maybe shower fuck-- and go to work. He and Steve have different routes, for obvious reasons, though their neighborhoods are pretty close. 

It's afternoon, sort of lethargically drizzling rain. He walks around the corner by the bus station, and sees a little figure curled into a ball on the bench. When he gets closer, he recognizes the form of the kid before. 

“Tony. Hey, c’mon pal, rise and shine,” Bucky tries, but the kid just grumbles incoherently. “I can't let you sleep here, it looks bad,”

“C’mon, brat,” he barks, louder this time, snatching at Tony’s hood. 

“Shit!” Tony yelps, “Sorry!” His arms come up as if to brace for a blow. 

“Holy- what happened, you fall down some stairs, ‘r somethin’?” Bucky slowly lowers his hands. 

“What, this?” Tony waves at his bruised face, “Yeah, no. I, uh, pissed off some drunk guy.” Tony says, apparently ignoring his early reaction. Bucky and Steve grew up in Brooklyn, abused kids were a dime a dozen. A jumpy kid was nothin’ new. 

“I thought you were nursing your hungover boyfriend.” Bucky offered Tony a hand up. It was slapped away. 

“Is this an interrogation, cause I have a thing to get to.”

He shoulders past the taller man with a huff. His limp is worse, and Bucky sees the tail end of an ace bandage trailing loose off of Tony's wrist. At first he is too angry to care, and watches Tony pause and struggle to re-wrap his wrist. But after a few minutes, Bucky takes pity and caves. 

“C’mere, brat,” Bucky commands, not unkindly. Reluctantly, Tony agrees. 

The limb is bruised dark, and swollen. Bucky thinks it looks painful, but he has seen worse on Steve growing up. 

“Okay,” Bucky starts, “I know you've got your whole story all worked out, but if you need somebody, please let someone know. My boyfriend and I are both policemen. We don’t like bullies.” 

“I had it coming to me, really. Hustled him at-” Tony starts. Bucky stops him before he can continue. 

“Whatever. All i’m sayin’ is I don't like see folks beat up on eachother.”

“you used to be military, didn't you? What Branch?” Tony guesses, changes the subject. 

“Classified,” Bucky teases with a wink. “But I got this cool souvenir out of it.”

Bucky wiggles his shiny metal fingers, the latest in prosthetic technology. AFter a particularly bad day, and a bottle of vodka, Steve had painted the Captain America shield on the shoulder. Steve’s way of saying, you’re one of the good guys, Buck.

It’s metal panels shifted seamlessly as he moved it. Tony stared in awe… and maybe a little lust, because that was some sexy tech. He wondered if it had a vibrate setting. If not, maybe Bucky would let him put one on. Except Tony has a boyfriend he has to keep reminding himself about. Right. 

Tony goes home to said boyfriend, and cooks something cheap and kinda gross for dinner. Ty gets pissed, throws it against the wall, slaps Tony a few times and goes to bed. Tony cleans the mess and stays up all night reading about bioengineering in the couch by the light of his phone. Dummy sits in his lap and purrs, letting Tony rest his book on the cats back while he reads. 

The next day Tony gets off work at 11, per usual, and waits by the bus stop with coffee. Bucky comes walking around the corner right on time, with that smile that makes Tony's knees weak. It's becomes a thing to be looked forward to, lunch with Bucky. Tony gets off work at noon and buys two fifty-cent coffees from the vender down the street. He waits at the bus stop until Bucky gets there. 

Sometimes they go out for lunch-- Bucky has this thing about buying Tony food. He would buy Tony groceries if he let him. 

Sometimes they just sit and drink their coffee and talk. Bucky wants him to meet Steve for some reason, but he sounds like a great guy, so Tony isn't exactly opposed. Besides, whoever can hook a man like Bucky Barnes must be, just, something else. 

They talk about where they're from- Tony gets kinda hesitant, but says California in a way Bucky knows it's a lie. Bucky seems to be able to tell when Tony's lying, but rarely calls him on it. 

They talk about where they want to go-- Tony says everywhere, anywhere, as long as it's far away from here. Bucky says that he's been pretty much everywhere he cares to see, touring during his military stint. Apparently he and Steve were in service for four years, but he won't tell Tony what they did, or even really where they went. Tony wishes he had access to a computer so he could hack around and find out. So far that has been Buckys only unreachable topic. 

Of course, Tony is a fog of mystery-- he won't say where he's from, won't talk about his family or his childhood. He avoids it in a way that tells Bucky it's important. In fact, most anything personal brought up before the last year is basically off-limits. The one time he pushes for answers, Tony avoids him for a week.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony meets Steve. Bucky meets him at the bus station again, with a buff blonde Dorito in tow. 

“Holy cornchips. Wow.” Tony looks up at Bucky in awe. “You really nabbed yourself a trophy there. What, they wouldn't let you borrow the Adonis statue, you had to go find your own? I mean, damn. Forget the Hemsworth brothers.”

Steve chuckles weakly. “So you're the Tony Buck won't shut up about. I'm Steve. I don't know if this punk mentioned me or--”

“Mentioned you? He brags about you constantly.” Tony adapts a funny ‘Bucky’ voice. “‘Steve is so blonde and handsome,’ ‘Steve is so strong and smart.’ ‘Steve can open the jar of pickles without help.’ I was beginning to think he had confused his boyfriend with the Hercules cartoon movie. You know, the Disney one, of course.”

“He's told me a lot about you, too. He says you're smart-- you told him how to fix our blender.”

Tony waves a hand as they walk. “Psht, that was nothing. A loose part, I didn't even have to look at it.”

“Still, thank you. Bucky tells me you're a mechanic?” 

“That I am, yup. I'm over at Shield, on West street. Every morning, except Sundays, eight to noon.”

“Not bad. Buck and I are cops, but he probably told you that. We just walk our routes, it's pretty boring.”

“Yeah, if you're used to classified missions and other Bourne-themed activities. I bet being a beat cop looks boring to you two. You're used to fighting Bond villains and Doctor Doom.” 

Steve and Bucky both laugh. Tony relishes the sound. Usually when people laugh, it tends to be AT him, not WITH him. It was a pleasant change. 

“So where do you want to go, Mr and Mr Bond?

“Hmm, what do you like, Tony? You should pick. Somewhere close, though. I'm starving.”

There's a sub shop around the corner that makes amazing coffee. It's warmer inside, and the man knows Tony and greets them warmly. Steve and Tony sit across from Bucky, and for once Tony is the quiet one as the two bicker over movie plot. 

“Doctor Who could totally be realistic! Are you an AstroPhysicist or something? Psht, you don't know nothin’ about aliens, that could all be really real for all we know.” Bucky says. 

“Impossible. Aliens aren't real, they're like Bigfoot. Or Lock Ness. The bible didn't say anything about God creating aliens from other planets.”

“You're Christian?” Tony asks. 

“Catholic. His folks were both from Ireland.” Bucky explains while Steve orders for them. Steve even remembered the chocolate malt Tony had been thinking about ordering. 

“I'm atheist. Big fan of evolution.” Tony smirks at the little twitch in Steve's eye. 

“Personally?” Buckys voice drops, like he's a little hesitant to say it aloud. He clutches his metal arm close. “I have no idea. If there is a god, they've got an awful sense of humor or justice or whatever. I like the science stuff more. I ain't exactly in a hurry to find out, though.” 

“Yeah, that actually sounds about right. I'm a big fan of Doctor Who, by the way. In case I didn't mention that before, I kind of obsess over it when I get the chance to watch it. Who is your favorite Doctor?”

“Matt Smith, hands down. You?”

“Tennant! That hair, my god.” In the background, Steve rolls his eyes. Their drinks arrive. The waitress eyes the two nerds with confusion. She looks back at Steve with a questioning brow and places their malts on the table. 

“Birds of a feather. They're cute together, right?” She says to Steve. She pops her gum and shrugs. 

“Your favorite companion/Doctor combo?” Tony stares up at Bucky through his lashes, wide eyed. He sips his malt, a smile tugging at his lips. His dark eyes sparkled with interest. Steve can't help but stare at the two. 

“I'm a sucker for Rose and Nine. They were perfect, like two puzzle pieces. She was okay with Ten, but I think it was different for her after he regenerated.” Bucky answers. 

Bucky looked no better than Steve felt, staring at Tony unabashed as they talked animatedly. His Bucky looked smitten and Steve felt his own crush building. Tony was hard not to fall for; he was charming and witty and handsome. 

“Nope-- no. Amy, Rory, and Eleven.”

“Naw, no way. They were alright, sure, but Rose and Nine was romantic! Eleven was basically a toddler anyway. Amy and Rory were the parents of River Song, right? And I'm pretty sure River and the Doctor are married, or get married, or whatever. So he's just traveling around with his parents. That makes no sense. Rose was way more interesting.”

Tony gasps dramatically. “Steve! Do you hear this? Is he always this irrational?” 

“That is so over my head, Tony. You'll have to battle this one yourself, sweetheart.” Steve raises his palms on a very non-committal fashion. Tony rolls his eyes, but smiled happily at him. He turns back to Bucky. 

“You're nuts! It's Doctor Who, it doesn't need an unnecessary romantic subplot. Aliens and time travel and timey-wimey-spacey-wacey stuff is fine. Not everything needs romance.” 

“Looks like you have someone to watch Doctor Who with, Buck.” Steve smiles at the pair of brunettes. They look good together. Steve could get used to a view like this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this one is big for the warnings. Maybe just skip it if you trigger easily. I'm so so sorry.

Rent is late, Tony's been avoiding Stane for over a week now. Ty still hasn't given Tony the money he owes for his half, and Tony hasn't seen him in days. 

Tony goes to work at the shop until 11, and takes the bus home. Bucky stops by to see him at the bus stop, and brings him a coffee. They chat about bullshit-- Buckys pregnant older sister, and engaged younger sister. His parents were pressing him to marry Stevie. 

Tony tells him about some rude costumer at the mechanics shop, rolling his eyes and making wild gestures with his hands. Until the bus arrives, that is. Maybe it was Buckys imagination, but Tony's smile fell when he had to return to reality. To the boyfriend that Tony never mentions, that Bucky knows hits Tony, and Tony said he suspects might be kicking his cat. But he never gives Bucky anything to use to take care of the problem, and he boards the bus. 

It's rent day. Tony takes the 600 dollars to Stane. It's a hundred dollars short, but it's everything he's got. He knocks on Obadiah's apartment, dressed in his tightest jeans and shirt, knowing exactly how Stane is going to want the difference made up. 

He knocks, and enters. Obadiah and some friend Tony doesn't know-- tall and stocky, just like Stane is-- are sitting on the couch watching porn. How fortunate. 

Tony drops the wad of cash on Stanes lap without a word, and watches him count it. He frowns. 

“You're short, Tony. A hundred dollars, that's a lot of money.” He puffs on that big cigar of his. Some girl is moaning and screaming in the background, skin slapping on skin. 

“I know. I thought I would stop by later and work something out. Maybe after your friend left.”

“I think there's enough to go around. Come on, close the door. Take your shirt off.” He does. His torso and arms are littered with bruises, but he's fit from yoga and the other exercises he does to fill his free time. The stranger stands and runs his hands up and down Tony's chest, rolling his nipples between two fingers. 

It feels good, and Tony can't help the little noise he makes, though he hates it. His cock twitches with interest. Stane might be an ugly bastardized, but Handsy was not. He palms Tony through his jeans. It's obvious now he doesn't wear underwear. 

Stane fists Tony's hair, pushes his head down to Handsys pants. The woman in the background is begging for it, ‘harder, more, please, please.’ Tony mouths at his erection through his jeans, making a show of licking at the fabric. The man pops the button and drops his jeans far enough for his cock to bob out. Tony strokes it a few times, and rolls on a condom before he turns to Stane. He takes the man from his pants, puts the condom in him, and licks up the length. He pressed the flat of his tongue against the head. 

“Come on, Tony. Earn it.” Obadiah growls. Tony scowls up at him, and he chuckles. He pulls his pants down farther, and mouths at his balls, gross and sweaty. One hand strokes Obadiah, the other pulls at the strangers cock. God, he feels like the prettiest twink in the porno. It makes his head hurt. 

He licks at the man's balls until Obadiah yanks on his hair. He moves up to his cock, tonguing and mouthing at it before swallowing it. He hollows his cheeks and bobs his head like a goddamn champ. 

Someone pulls him up by his arm, and pulls Tony's pants away from him. Tony is guided to kneel on all fours, with Stane in front of him, cock swollen and red. Tony sucks at him while the other man kneels behind Tony. He feels a drop of lube drizzle down his ass, and a finger circles his hole. 

The stranger preps him while Obadiah sets a punishing pace. It was a little dysphoric, Obadiah pounding into his throat, and the man behind him preparing him gently, slowly. He was making sure to use lots of lube, which was a plus. Tony's nose is pressed to Stanes belly, his pubes in his nose. 

“Yeah, take it. Choke on it, whore.” He growls. 

Tony does. He chokes, desperate for air. The man behind him spanks his ass a couple times, and groans in appreciation. Yeah, Tony knows it's a nice ass. The man Oreos him thoroughly, quickly, with tiny bucking backwards on his fingers. He lets out little breathy moans around Stanes dick 

He enters him while Tony is still choking. It kinda hurts, but thankfully it's in a good way. Tony moans, pushing back. The man angled his thrusts at just the right angle, making Tony moan around the cock in his mouth. He spreads his thighs more, the hands on his hips and in his hair tightening. 

The man adds lube until he's dropping into the carpet beneath him. The man pushes a finger in beside his thrusting cock, stretching him more. Tony wants to protest, but his mouth is full-- obviously. Tony gives a little whine of protest, bucking his hips forward. Stane just chuckles and and kind of slaps his cheek in reprimand. The hand fisted in his hair keeps him from pulling back. 

Tony gets the message, and gives in. At least the man stretches him slowly, using an excess or lubricant. Tony can feel it dripping down his balls, puddling below his cock. His thighs are slick with it. He's scissoring three fingers inside Tony; it's uncomfortable, but not unmanageable. It turns to pleasure when the man bends Tony's hips, arching his back. 

Obadiah pulls him off, and forces his shoulders down to the floor. Tony pants and moans, bucking his hips back towards the pleasure. The fingers and cock are pulled out with a wet little noise, and Tony moans at the loss. He whimpers helpless on the floor, thighs trembling. The stranger lays on the floor and Tony straddled his thighs. The man enters him easily, adding more lube. Obadiah does the same, settling behind him. Tony leans forward, onto the other man's chest. 

Stane enters him slowly. The pressure is borderline too much, but this isn't exactly a situation Tony can safe word out of. He can't help the tears that well in his eyes, and he wishes he could turn away to hide. But he's stuck, and Obadiah starts moving before he's ready. Tony bites his lip, bites down his cries, and takes it. He can take it, he can, he can. He hides his face in the man's shoulder. 

And then he hits just the right spot, and Tony gasps in pleasure. He moans again, long and loud, as the men thrust. As Tony loosens, their pace quickens. Tony pants and groans with the thrusts, pressure building inside him. He cums between them with a painful little whimper, and a long breathy moan. 

Tony lies pliant until the other men finish. It doesn't take long, thanks god. The room sounds like it's own porno, filled with the slapping of skin on skin, and panting breath. Tony is still moaning low in his throat with every thrust-- it hurts again, all pleasure gone. He wants to curl in bed alone. He wants these men to get off of him. 

Obadiah pulls out with a wet sound, and the stranger sort of just pushes Tony off of him. “Party's over. Everyone out,” Obadiah orders, sprawling on his couch and lighting a cigar. 

It takes Tony longer than he's proud of to dress and limp to the elevator. Tyberius isn't home, so Tony just strips at the door and crawls to the tub. He curls under the cold stream and shivers

Ty stays gone for a few more days. Tony calls in to Shield and tells Fury that he's got the flu. He doesn't leave the apartment for a week. He hurts for days, curled in bed with Dummy. Honestly, he's grateful Ty isn't around to bitch at him for being lazy. He only moves from the bed to shower, and eats sporadically. 

Tony's tired and cold, and lonely. He daydreams about Steve and Bucky curled around him, giving him cuddles and kisses, and playing with his hair. Tony burrows his face in Dummy's fur to hide the tears that escape. 

 

Tony goes back to work when their fridge is empty. He's starving, and goes to the shop hungry. It's still a week until payday, and Dummy ate his last can of food that morning. So he returns to the shop and pretends that it didn't happen. He's exhausted because he keeps dreaming of hands holding him down. 

Yoga in the park perks him up a little, but he needs coffee. He should make a caffeine IV to carry around for days like this. He feels like he’s going to drop, and there is a line at the coffee shop that is entirely too long, and Tony just can’t wait that long. His mental whining and fatigue distract him from the hot mess swaggering his way. 

“Tony,” Bucky calls. Tony’s head jerks up. 

Bucky takes in the kids shaking hands, and the bruises under his eyes look worse-- darker than usual. His coffee-colored eyes look manic though, wide and desperate and glazed from exhaustion. Tony summons a smile that brightens his face but he's still obviously not well. It all makes Tony look pale and ill; it reminds Bucky of Steve’s younger years.

“You okay, pal? Everything okay at home?” He asks tentatively. “I haven't seen you in almost two weeks.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Super. Fantastic, even.”

Bucky might believe him more of his voice didn't shake. He obviously needs sleep and a good meal. He looks like he never eats. “Yeah, I'm gonna call your bullshit right off the bat. Jeez, when's the last time you slept, kid? You're asleep on your feet. Come on, let's get you home. You can sleep like a normal person.”

Blearily, Tony lets Bucky pull him to a cab. Bucky means to get his address and send the kid on his way-- unfortunately, as soon as he is no longer standing, Tony is asleep. His head tips, shining light on the bruises that stain his face and neck. 

“Tony? Tony, come on, pal. I need your address.” 

“Come on, where am I going?” The cabbie barks, her voice rough from smoke. 

“Hang on. Tony! I need to send you home, come on.”

“Hurry up, would ya? We're blocking traffic.” Horns blare behind them. Bucky sighs. 

“Okay, okay.” He climbs in beside Tony, and gives his own address. The sleeping teen-- there was no way Bucky believed he was 21-- slumps against him. It's a pretty short drive over, and Bucky texts Stevie to make him aware of their guest. Bucky carries Tony upstairs to his apartment. He settles him into the guest bedroom with a note to make himself at home


	5. Chapter 5

He wakes up in a strange bedroom, on a bed that isn't his. There is a soft blue blanket covering him, and a note on the table. ‘Tony, make yourself at home. -Bucky’, was written in messy scrawl. 

Tony gets up, stretches, checks his cell. No missed calls, but a couple of texts; Clint asking to come watch the game, Natasha wondering if he wanted to come to her and Peppers place for dinner. He looks at the clock-- 9pm. Holy shit, he just crashed in someone else's place for ten hours. 

Speaking of, where was Steve and Bucky? He helps himself to some mouthwash in the adjoining bathroom before venturing out. His clothes and hair are still mussed, eyes still a little blurry. He could probably go back to sleep for another five hours. He finds the men in the kitchen, dancing around each other as they cooked in a manner that spoke of many years of practice. They must have known each other a long time. 

“What's cookin’, good lookin’?” Tony mumbles, taking a seat at the counter. 

“Tacos and quesadillas. You wanna stay for dinner? Clint and Phil, Natasha, and Pepper are coming over. We're going to play a movie. We were sort of hoping you would stay.” Steve's pale skin blushes. 

“Sure, I guess. Why are you doing dinner so late?”

“We only got home a couple ‘a hours ago,” Bucky drawls. “Phil had us late for a meeting.” 

“Okay. Who's Phil?”

“Clints husband. But he's also our Captain.” 

“Clint is GAY? Ugh, I would have smacked his ass more.”

“Phil would probably remove your hand or something. But if you wanna, go ahead. I'll video it,” Bucky teases. They're still cooking, slowly drinking wine from their glasses. 

“I didn't know you knew Clint.” Steve looks up from dicing the tomato. 

“We work at the same mechanics shop. Shield.”

“Oh yeah, I wasn't sure if it was the same Tony.” 

“The one and only-”

The bell rings seconds before Clint bursts through the door anyway, followed by his mutt Lucky, and the sound of Phil scolding him about being rude. At the sight of the dog, Tony drops to his knees and claps his hands. Lucky runs over to kiss Tony and they ignore everyone else to play on the floor. 

“Looks like Tony's a dog person,” Pepper notes to Stucky, with a sly hint. They loved dogs, were thinking of getting their own. Currently, however, they were thinking about adopting another boyfriend. 

“Did you have dogs growing up?” Bucky asks. 

Tony hesitates before answering. “No. It wasn't allowed.”

“That sucks, man. You're great with Lucky. I should bring him around the shop more,” Clint adds. 

“Can I take him for a walk? I need a smoke, anyway.” 

Clint shrugs and gives the leash over, but Steve wrinkles his nose in distaste. 

“Buck, remember when you tried smoking?”

“Yeah, when we were 14 and stupid kids. It was awful. A real bitch to quit, too. Shit’ll kill ya,” Bucky says sagely. 

Tony shrugs. “I'm gonna die sometime, anyway.” He shrugs on his jacket, and pats Lucky. He leaves the door open and Natasha rolls her eyes and closes it for him. 

“Sooooo he's cute. You guys want bang him?” 

“Clint,” Phil says, reprimanding. “They're classy. They wanna date him before they fuck him.” 

Clint grins. “I forget they're gentlemen. You're going to take him on at least three dates, and get him flowers and jewelry. Isn't that right, Buck?”

“What shift does he work? I we could pick him up for breakfast.” Steve suggests, that earnest Golden Labrador look on his face. 

“He has a boyfriend. A real asshole, but Tony won't say anything. He won't let us do anything, just keeps lying about the bruises and stuff.” Clint complains. 

“God, an’ he always acts like it don't matter, it drives me crazy sometimes.” Bucky adds. 

“I don't know why he stays with him. Honestly. But, hell, maybe if he knows you two are the alternative, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Steve glances at Bucky in one of those weird couples-mind-reading things. “Any luck on the Howard thing?” 

I  
Natasha and Clint had been hired by Howard to find his son-- and they had. But something had struck hem wrong about the old man, and so they sat on their location, buying time until Tony gave them information to put Howard behind bars.

“No. Tony is evasive for a civ. He keeps everything close. I'm sure if I could get into Howard office I would find some sort of paperwork to put the old man away, but Tony is going to be a slow burn. We have to be careful with this, I don't want him hurt with this.” Natasha briefs them briefly. 

“He isn't any better on my end,” Clint adds. “Tone does his work well, drinks a fuck ton of coffee, and eats lunch from the vending machine in the waiting room. He leaves home at home, you know?” 

“He's been like that since I've known him,” Pepper says. One of the girls buzzes Tony in. Steve puts the food on the counter, Bucky grabs plates and spoons for the diced tomato, guacamole, salsa, and onion. 

“Wash your hands, guys. You can use any of the bathrooms.”

The cigarettes and chilly air seemed to have helped wake Tony up. He helps himself to a coffee cup hanging above the sink and fills it from the fresh pot while he waits for the kitchen sink to free. 

“Thanks for letting me stay, by the way. I have this weird sleep schedule, and it catches up to me sometimes. One time I got locked in a library because I fell asleep under one of the tables and nobody noticed. I woke up when they came to open the next morning.”

“Of course you did,” Bucky smiles. 

“So what do you do all night?” 

“I read a lot. I type on this little project I have going, but it's nothing. What do you guys do? Other than hot sex, of course.”

“I don't know, there's a lot of hot sex.” Steve teases, his face straight. The troll. 

“Amazing sex-- he has this thing that just. WOW.”

“Oh, that's so rude. Do you two tease all of your house guests this way? Cause I have to say, I definitely approve.” 

“You're incorrigible. Here.” Steve pops a piece of tomato in Tony's mouth. 

“Mmm, getting hand fed by hot blonde? Hell yes. You wanna try and top that, tall dark, and handsome?”

Bucky growls, predatory. “More like top THAT,” his eyes roam over Tony's body meaningfully. He steps close, cupping Tony's cheek in his hand. Tony's breath quickens. His pupils dilate. Bucky bows his head to capture the boy's lips with his own, sweet and thorough and good. God, he was a good kisser. Tony was pliant against him, kissing back with hunger. They broke apart with a gasp for air. 

“Holy shit,” Tony sighs, light headed. In the background, Natasha catcalls at them. “You-- wow. You're good at that.” 

“Good to know.” Bucky grins devilishly, all bright teeth and sharp eyes. 

“Here.” Steve tried to hand him a plate, but Tony's arms wrap around his hips

“Sorry, I don't, uh. I don't like being handed things? It's a thing.” Everyone rolls with it like it isn't the weirdest thing ever. Like Tony isn't some genius freakazoid with too many quirks. 

The food is great and Tony is starving now that he's slept. The room is companionable and warm, with friendly chatter filling the silence. Natasha listened to Phil, Clint and Bucky were disgusting strategy about a game Tony didn't play. Steve had one arm around the back of Tony's chair. The atmosphere was strangely soothing to Tony, who prefered his own solitude with Dummy and AC/DC for company. 

Bucky made two large blueberry pies for dessert, which Tony swears he could probably orgasm if he ate the whole pie. Which he could totally do-- sit down with an entire blueberry pie and a fork, and eat the entire thing. Of course, the last time he did that he had been smoking weed all afternoon. 

At some point Steve nabbed his fork and insisted on feeding Tony bites between the geniuses baby bird and airplane jokes. Which was basically nonstop, because Tony Carter could ramble with the best of them. He wound up with blueberry sauce on his chin and cheek, and the tip of his nose. Bucky licked it off, and Steve pulled him in for a pie flavored kiss. Tony was happy to know they were both equally amazing kissers. 

Natasha and Pepper volunteer to take Tony home. Tony gives Lucky one more pat, and hugs Bucky and Steve goodbye. They each give him a kiss on the cheek. It makes Tony blush and stammer about the stock market until Natasha takes pity and drags him away-- Pepper thought it was funny. 

“I wanna date him,” Bucky states the second the door closes. Steve smiles and kisses him. Phil and Clint make collective noises of approval and disgust. Like watching your parents kiss. 

“I know. I like him, too. He's funny and smart, he works hard, he's kind.” Steve agrees. 

“My god. He's so smart, right? Like, he's a genius. Computer engineering and bioengineering and biochemistry. That's nuts. He's like a scifi villain with all that sarcasm.”

“Maybe you found somebody to watch Doctor Who with you.”

Bucky's face lights up again. “Oh my god! Do you think a movie marathon would be an appropriate date?” 

“You've got his number. I know you want to ask.” Steve smiles at him fondly. 

“Naw, I wanna spring it on him next time he's over. Maybe have him sleep over.”

“He's got a boyfriend.” Steve feels the need to point out. 

“Ty is a douche. It doesn't count. I'd beat his ass if I got half a chance, an’ don't pretend you wouldn't.”

“No, you're right. Off the clock? I'd be right there with you. But officially, we can't do anything until Tony quits covering for him.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Nag.” He slaps Steves ass.

“So where you do guys wanna take him?” Clint wonders, arms snaking around Phil as they cuddled on the couch. Steve dropped beside them, but Bucky continued to the kitchen. He came back with more dessert for everyone. 

“I was thinking a movie,” Steve says. 

“But I was thinking dancing.”

Clint wrinkles his nose at that. “No, I don't think Tony has dancing clothes, unless you think ‘dancing’ is code for strip club. Which he'd probably like, by the way.”

“We are not taking Tony to a strip club on a date.” Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, that's for later on after we sleep with him.” Bucky grins.

Steve shakes his face in faux exasperation. 

“I think a simple dinner and a movie would suffice,” Phil adds. “I don't know Tony very well, but you can't go wrong with a classic.”

“Whataya think, Stevie? There's the pizza place we like.”

“Or maybe burgers at the diner?”

“Does he like Italian?”Bucky wonders. 

“Or maybe he would prefer something else?”

“You guys are ridiculous. Just go to the pizza joint and take him to see something with explosions.” Clint orders. “Don't overthink it, Romeos. Phil and I are totally gonna go bang, so thanks for dinner. I'll harass Tony about you tomorrow morning at work. Have a goodnight guys!”

“Bye, guys.” They close the door behind them. 

“C’mon, let's go to bed, punk.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You did that on purpose.” Tony accuses the women as soon as they get out of hearing range. 

“We didn't do anything. You got here on your own. We're just helping to nudge things along,” Pepper smirks. 

“It's about time you moved on from Tyberius. He's going to kill you one day. I know you don't think so, but he will. I've known dozens of men just like him. Look at Howard Stark--” 

In the backseat, Tony focuses out the window so he doesn't clam up. He knows Natasha means nothing by it, she could not know he was Tony Stark. Howard was still a household name in the weapons industry, he's sure that's what she meant. She's not calling him out. She doesn't know, he tells her. 

“Look at Howard Stark-- his wife killed herself and then two years ago his son disappears. From MIT, just before his seventeenth birthday. Just one week before summer break started and he would have come home. 

“He left everything behind, which is why everyone thinks he was taken. But still, it doesn't look good for the man. He's got the power to keep anything from sticking to him, but that doesn't mean the man is innocent. Personally, I think he was the death of both of them.” Natasha speculates. Tony admits it's a very sound theory. 

“Most people think it was a kidnapping gone wrong. You know, ol’ Howie didn't feel like paying ransom on the little bastard.” Tony argued. 

“What do you think? Anthony Stark was about your age, a few years younger. What are your thoughts on Anthony Stark's disappearance?”

“Well, personally, I might lean toward Natasha's theory-- the man comes off very Italian mafia, I think he was fully capable of killing him. But honestly, I don't think it really matters. He was just some stupid kid. There are dozens out there just like him. Everybody's making a big deal out of it, but he was just another dumb kid. If it wasn't for the Stark name it wouldn't really matter.” 

Nat catches Tony's eye in the rear view mirror. “That's not true.”

“Maybe,” Tony allows, mostly to let the co topic drop. “Steve and Bucky are great. And hot. And truly amazing kissers….” Tony stops, his face unconsciously darkening. “But I'm with Ty. And I know you guys don't get it, but he can be really amazing sometimes.” He hadn't in a long time, but that was beside the point. 

“Okay Tony, but do want to know what I think those two are doing right now? Stressing over what date they want to take you on first. They really like you, Tony. They would be good to you.”

Tony dares to imagine them stressing over him-- thinking about what Tony would like to do, where he would like to go. It was nice to imagine for a little while, but eventually Tony had to get out of the car. Pepper and Natasha kissed his cheek and he walks upstairs with this low sense of dread. He found himself hoping Tyberius wasn't home. 

He was. He sat sprawled in the recliner, naked and drinking straight from a cheap brown bottle. Actually, the whiskey was amber, and the the bottle was probably plastic, but-- semantics. Some political debate Tony didn't care about was on the television, showing Howard Stark at a podium, arguing over morals and religion. It sounds like snakes hissing in his ear and he does his best to ignore it all. After all, he would never let himself be under Howards thumb again. 

Tony's phone trills a little tune. Tony passes Ty in silence, careful not to disturb him. 

“Where have you been?” Ty sounds a little drunk, but not very. Tony texts Clint back. 

“Out. I went to Natasha and Pep’s for dinner, we did movies. It was a blast.” 

“I don't want you hanging out with those tramps. Hey, bring me a beer.” 

“Don't talk about them like that. Natasha and Pepper are not tramps. They aren't like that, you're just being a bigot again.”

“Shut up, Tony. Bring me my beer.”

“I'm not your maid,” Tony complains, not looking up from his phone. Clint was pestering him about switching days, which Tony was being stubborn about just to annoy him. 

“No, you're your fathers whore. He's on tv, I could bend you over the couch so you could watch him while I fuck you. Show you your goddamn place. It would be sort of like old times. Feeling nostalgic?” 

“Fuck you! You're such an asshole.” Tony feels shame and hatred grow in his stomach. 

Tyberius finishes the bottle and burps. “Tony goddamnit get me a fucking drink!” 

“No. Fuck off.”

“Sensitive bitch. I should have left you at MIT to fuck your daddy. Let him keep your lazy, ungrateful ass.” Ty heaves himself from the recliner with a groan. He stumbles on his feet. From across the small kitchen he throws the empty bottle at Tony. It was indeed glass, and it shatters against the counter just inches in front of him. Glass explodes all over the countertop, scatting over the floor. Tony flinches back, almost falling off his perch. 

“What the fuck? I'm not cleaning that up.” Tony tries to hide his nerves. In his hand, Clints reply sends his phone off again. 

“Who's texting you? Who the hell are you talking to?” 

“Pepper.”

“You're a fucking liar.” He snatches at Tony, who flinches away. He catches the scent of another man's cologne on Tony's shirt. “Why the fuck do you smell like another guy? Where the fuck have you been?” Ty yells. 

The phone falls from his hand, ringing another text alert. Ty grabs it and throws it onto the floor where it bounces and shatters into the broken glass. 

“I told you I didn't want you texting anybody else. You can't talk to anyone else, see anyone else. You're mine.” His hand fists in Tony's shirt collar, just below his throat. “Do you hear me? You're mine!” 

He yanks on Tony's shirt, pulling him off his seat. He stumbles on the mess on the floor and falls, his head smacking against the corner his ears ring, and stars dance in front of his eyes. Ty seems to have avoided the pieces but Tony did not. With a sharp stab of pain he feels one of the pieces cut into him. 

“Ow! Shit. What the hell? Why do you have to be such an asshole to me?” Tony struggles with the hair now fisted in his hair, limbs slow and clumsy. His boyfriend looks pissed, like how dare Tony question his mental stability. He backhands him onto the floor. His forehead bounces off the ground, making his vision swim. Ty kicks him down. 

Slowly Tony rises to his feet, soles and cheek and ribs aching lowly. Ty grips his arm in a bruising grip and drags him to the couch. Tony grabs at the hand in his hair, and elbows the other man in the face. A hand grabs his wrist and twists. He cries out as pain shoots up his wrist. Ty’s knuckles find the side of his head, hitting him full force. The room swims around him, the noise from the tv and Tyberius’ yelling is distorted. 

Tony is bent over the couch again, one hand squeezing his wrist and the other tears at his clothes. 

On the tv, Howard is giving some token bullshit on how he wishes his son were there to see it. How proud Anthony would be at the growth of the company. Bullshit. Tony hates Stark Industries. 

“Do you wish it were him fucking you right now? You wish this was your daddy's cock inside you, Stark?” Ty pants and groans with his thrusts. “Don't worry, I won't tell your little friends who you really are. Mmmn, just remember. You're mine. You're not good enough for anyone else-- who wants some dirty, used little fag who got fucked by his dad?” 

Not Steve and Bucky, he knows. They have each other, why would they want a dirty whore like Tony? They didn't need him in their life, nobody did. Nobody except Tyberius ever had. Hell, Maria had killed herself to get away from him. Howard-- Howard was as sick as Tony was. They were diseased. 

Tony whines with each thrust, face buried in the couch cushion. He burns with humiliation, inside and out. Tyberius pants into his ear, saying the filthiest things. He wants to watch Howard fuck Tony, thinks he should have done it before they ran off. He says he should tip off Howard, just so he could be invited to the party afterwards. Where he can watch a crowd of rich, posh old bastards gather around and take him like a consolation prize. Tony fears that he isn't bluffing, that Tiberius would really hand him back over to that monster. 

He comes in hot spurts inside Tony. His hands release his head and wrist, and Tony slumps down, limp. Ty turns the report off, and Tony can hear him shower. Tony stays on the ground long after Ty even goes to bed. His snores fill the apartment as he fades in and out of consciousness, dozing. His head aches, and he just wants to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony sleeps through his alarm, passed out on the floor. His head is killing him, though everything sort of just hurts. Hit phone is smashed on the ground, he can't call work. He will have to walk down to the shop to tell Fury himself, though he isn't sure what excuse he will use this time. 

Ty is watching tv in their bedroom and Tony slips into the bathroom for a shower. He remembers to lock the door this time. The water is cold but it washes the blood and sweat down the drain. He dresses and limps to work, his mind a million miles away. 

“Carter!” Fury barks when he walks in the door. “You're late.”

“That I am. Nice skills of deduction, there. I, uh, sent through my alarm. Not that you would know anything about that, Cyborg. But us mere humans have pretty shitty internal alarms.”

“What happened to the external alarm?”

“It was on my phone. Which is broken. Busted to smithereens; destroyed beyond repair, even for my genius. A casualty of the Great War against gravity, I'm afraid. She will be missed.”

“Cut the bullshit, Carter. Get to work. Get a new phone. Don't be late again.” Fury lets him off with a warning, thank god. Though, that was likely due to the obvious injuries he had most recently sustained, rather than actual forgiveness. 

Clint is performing some routine maintenance on a Pathfinder, and Tony falls into step with the next piece on the list. 

“Nice face, Tony. You get beat with the ugly stick again?”

“Careful, Clint. Someone might mistake you for someone funny.”

“I'm always funny, you're just sore. I'm telling you, man, if you would just safeword.”

“Bite my shiny robot ass, Barton.” 

“I just might, you keep talking like that. But then my husband would come kill you.” 

“Oh, please, Phil loves me. He thinks I'm charming.”

“He thinks you're annoying,” Clint corrects him. “Besides, if I bite your ass, Steve and Bucky will get jealous.”

“You mean Stucky,” Tony interupts. 

“What?”

“Stucky. It's a mashup of Steve and Bucky-- Stucky. It saves time, it's cute. It's a thing.”

“Okay, so what would you three be? Stoncky?”

“Stuckyony?” Tony suggests. 

“Whatever, man. When are you going to leave that asshole and just let Stucky love you?”

“Because Stucky is too good to be true, blondie. I know this might be a little over your head, but if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. And a Stucky sandwich is definitely too good to be true.” 

“Why? Cause they don't hit you?”

“Fuck off.”

They sit in tense silence for several long minutes. The only sounds were their tools and the rock station they kept the radio tuned to. 

“Sorry, Tony. I shouldn't have said that, but it's true.”

“Well Bucky and Steve might like me no, but what happens after the one night stand? After the after party, when everybody's done ducking and ready to go home? They would throw me out of their bed like any other couple would. Because they have an actual established relationship. They don't really want me for anything more than a super awesome three way. Orgy, if you and Phil want to join.”

“Okay-- first: Steve and Bucky would kick my ass for thinking about how hot you would be naked. Second: I don't think you're giving them enough credit. Steve and Bucky are really great guys, Tones. They sure as hell wouldn't leave you looking like that.” Clint gestures with his wrench to the entirety of Tony's bruised body. 

“You don't understand.” Tony mumbles because he knows he sounds like an angsty teenager complaining that his parents JUST DON'T GET IT! 

But Tony's mother died when he was twelve. The only attention he got from Howard was sick, and sporadic at best. Usually the man was away for business, leaving Tony with the maids that neglected him, resenting his money and social position. And when Howard was home-- …. 

When Howard was home, he would pour over paperwork and blueprints and lab work with a bottle of scotch in hand. He would ignore Tony for days until the boy learned to do something about it. Tony would come in, desperate for any kind of affection, just some kind of acknowledgment that he even existed in his fathers world. 

But it seemed Howard only loved him when Tony was on his knees. Or his back. And only while the older man was drunk. After he sobered up he usually found where Tony had hidden himself away. He would beat him for a number of excuses-- Tony was gay. Tony was stupid. Tony was lazy. Tony was disgusting to let that keep happening. Tony was sick to want his father to do that. 

So it went for several years, the neglect/sex/abuse cycle that never seemed to end. He went to MIT at fifteen, too young and too broken to defend himself, and met Tyberius. It had been Ty who Tony had confessed to, high on the drugs and drinks his boyfriend kept giving him. He had been so scared to go home for the summer. It had been Ty who had helped Tony pack his single bag. He left his phone, his wallet, his computer. Tony had left everything in his dorm room and fled with Ty to New York. The rest was history. Ty kept him bound with threats of exposure to his father, though Tony honestly wasn't sure who was worse any more. 

“You wouldn't understand,” Tony says. There aren't enough words for his predicament. Except, maybe, heartbroken. Tony was damaged goods, nobody but Tyberius would want him. “You're married to Coulson. And anyway, it's a long story that, frankly, isn't any of your goddamn business.”

“Yeah, okay, it isn't any of my business. Except that one of my friends is staying with some douche that beats him. Let me tell you, I've been there. I dated this one guy-- Jacques. When I was younger than you, only 16. And he was more than ten years older, but that didn't matter. He was hotter than Satans nutsack, and I thought he was so smart. He taught me everything I know. 

“And he was a manipulative, abusive monster. But I stayed because I thought I owed him, and I thought that he was the best that I deserved. But Tony, I stayed a lot longer than I should have, and nothing good came out of it.” 

“Thanks for the recap, Rihanna. But it's fine.”

“And when you realize that this is not fine, we're all here for you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Ty had been gone all week, and the water and power bills are due. The cash from Fury isn't enough, and Tony dreads going out as he sprawls across his bed with a bottle of lube, preparing himself. 

Ty stumbles in drunk and sees his boyfriend stretching himself on their bed, naked from the waist down, and toned legs spread. His shirt is tucked up around his chest, showing off the rest of his scarred but fit body. 

“That's a hell of a sight to come home to.”

“Where have you been? Do you have the money?” Tony wonders, gingerly pulling his fingers out. He sits up. 

“No, but I've got something else for you. Worth it's weight in gold, too.” He adjusts his crotch meaningfully, eyeing Tony's naked body like steak. 

“We're broke, Ty! I was going to go suck some old fucks cock for a few bucks to pay the damn bills. You would know we were short on cash if you were ever around, instead of fucking around with other whores.” 

“Relax.” Ty pulls a baggie of powder from his pocket. Tony watches from the bed as he pours it onto the side table and divides it into neat little lines. He pulls a straw from somewhere, hands it to Tony. 

“Try this, it'll make everything better, trust me. This shit’s amazing.” 

They had done plenty of drugs together in college, when they could both afford to buy pounds of weed and booze and ‘shrooms. Tony pulls the straw from Ty’s hand, and helps himself to a line. He sniffs it up, and rubs his nose. He takes another. 

The effects are almost instantaneous. The high fills his head like a fog, thick and cloying. Ty hands him a bottle of vodka to chase it. Between the booze and the drugs, Tony is compliant enough to let Ty fuck him before he leaves for the night. After all, they were still broke. Tony divided two more lines for himself before he cleans and dresses. Ty passed out on the bed, and Tony sneaks a joint from Ty’s stash and he is out the door, onto the dark streets. 

It's a Friday, so Tony knows he should make good money. He walks to a good spot and walks back and forth, shaking his ass. He doesn't have to wait long before some old man pulls up beside him in a minivan, with his marriage ring still on his finger. He looks stern and bored, with a military haircut. 

“How much?”

“You a cop?” Tony asks, leaning in the window. 

“No. How much to fuck that tight ass?” The man is impatient. His wife is probably with the kids at soccer practice. 

“Fifty.” The man nods for him to get in. 

They pull into an empty alley and Tony clambers into the back seat. G.I. Joe smacks his ass and takes off Tony's shirt and jeans. He fucks Tony into the backseat, and slips a fifty dollar bill into his jeans pocket. When he finishes, he drops Tony out in the alley with the soiled condom and the other trash. 

The next few are less work-- they want him blowing them behind some dumpster. Some guy bends him over and fucks him for sixty bucks. One of Tony's regulars finds him-- he likes to spank Tony and the sex is awful but quick as usual. 

There is one last man for the night-- Tony forgets to ask the number one most important question on this side of town-- are you a cop. 

He shoves Tony against the brick wall with his hand down Tony's pants. He kneads the gloves of his ass, fucks a fingers in and out of the pliant whore. He shoves the boys jeans down to his knees and pulls his erection out. 

“I don't fuck without condoms,” Tony says, reaching for one in his pants. 

“Now you do.” His grip on the boy tightens and Tony can't struggle free. 

“Hey, fuck you! No glove, no love, dude. Get off of me. Stop, no, don't. Don't!”

The man laughs as his bare cock enters the boy. His struggles send waves of pleasure over the man, Tony's muscles tightening and fluttering as he tries to push the man off of him. Out of him, rather. Thank god Tony is stretched, or he would probably have hurt himself. 

“Ah!” Tony pants and moans with every thrust. 

His ass hurts from being fucked too many times tonight, and his high is wearing off. The John is using him too hard, it hurts. Tony starts to whine as the thrusts become painful. The man wraps one hand around Tony's throat. He can't breath, and the guy isn't letting up. Tony chokes for air. 

The stranger comes as he chokes the boy, pressing his face against the bricks. Tony drops to the ground, knees weak. He pants for breath, and his shaking hands can't button his jeans. 

“Where is my cash, asshole?” Tony asks. His ass fucking hurts. He just wants to go home. 

The man pulls out his wallet. “Brock Rumlow, BPD.” He shows Tony his badge. “You're under arrest for soliciting, you little tramp.”

“Fuck.” Tony closes his eyes, his hands fisting in his jeans.

The guy reads him his Miranda rights, though Tony isn't listening, he already knows them. He makes the cuffs too tight, and they cut into Tony's skin. If this guy would turn away for even a moment Tony would pick the cuffs and run. But he doesn't, and he can't. 

He is thrown into an overcrowded cell with his dirty clothes and no shower. He can still feel the other guys come dripping down his legs. His ass is sore. His face hurts from being forced against the bricks. 

The other men in the cell mostly ignore him. Most are drunk and passed out, or close to. Others are just sitting bored, talking or dozing against the wall. Talk about overcrowding. Tony finds a corner and sits quietly, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Be sits there for the rest of the night, not daring to close his eyes. 

Tony is booked in until someone can make his hundred dollar bail. He knows Tyberius won't bother, and he doesn't dare call anyone else. What is he supposed to say, anyway-- hey, I accidentally solicited a cop, now I'm in jail and need bail? Yeah, right. 

That is where Steve finds him in the morning, pressed against the bars with a bruising force while two larger detainees growl down at him. 

“Come on, guys, back off. Come on, Carter. Your bail has been posted.” Steve is a welcome familiarity, but his voice is cold, heartless. He knows Tony is nothing but a whore, now. Tony feels his heart drop. He knows, he knows, he knows. 

“My bail has been posted?”

“Not yet, but it will be. Come on, this way.”  
Tony follows him back to some empty interview room. “Stay here while I make a call.”

Steve returns with a scowl in his face. It reminds him of Howard in a way that makes him want to hide. Like he can see right through Tony and his facade. Like he knows that Tony is lower than the shit on his boots. Fucking worthless. Disgusting. 

“I talked with the chief about dropping the possession charge, and paid your bail. You can leave. But I don't think it would be a good idea to see me or Bucky again. I apologize, I hope you understand.” His voice is not the least bit apologetic. In fact, his eyes are hard too, set in his decision. It hits Tony like a physics blow. 

“No. I mean, yes. Yes, of course I understand.” Steve leads him down the corridors to be filed out. 

Steve nods once. “Good.” He turns his back on Tony and leaves. 

Of course he leaves. Tony isn't sure why the action surprises him, like he thought maybe Steve would stay. Like he thought that Steve and Bucky might be better than everyone else. Like he thought that maybe they had cared about him-- had wanted him, even. Maybe before, but not now. Nobody gives a damn about a whore, they're a dime a dozen on this side of town. And Tony is used goods, nobody likes a little toy like him after they've been used and broken. Nobody but Ty, that is. Tyberius had been the only one who didn't care that Tony had been fucked by his father, he hadn't cared that Tony was a slut. 

The walk home isn't long. Ty is still sleeping in bed from the evening before. Tony showers and goes to lie on the couch. He cries, thinking of the things he has lost. He grabs a bottle of booze from the table and drinks it from a coffee mug. There is Ty's stash under the floorboards. Tony digs it up and sets everything on the counter. He sets up to roll a joint, and eyes the coke. He only deliberates for a moment before he grabs it, sprinkles a white line on top of the little green line. Rolls it. Lights it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of minor changes but I felt bad about this update and had to fix it. I hope this is a little better

Steve comes in to work, donut and coffee in hand notices a familiar face sitting in one of the holding cells. Tony is sitting in a corner, trying to look small and succeeding. Steve only notices because he's former training, and he was used to looking for small things that count pose a threat to him or his team. 

He stops to ask one of the other men getting off shift. A fat and balding man living up to the stereotype with a donut in one hand and a coffee in the other. Steve doesn't remember his name. 

“Hey, what's he in for?”

The man follows Steves nod to where Tony is separated from the rest of the men in the cell. 

“The little brunette fag? He's a whore. Rumlow brought him in, been braggin’ ‘bout it all night. Drivin’ me nuts, like nabbin’ some dumb prostitute with a joint in his pocket is some accomplishment. Dipshit.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Steves insides run cold. Tony-- his Tony? Steve tries not to judge, but prostitution is a low that Steve cannot understand. The way Steve sees it, there are always jobs for hire to people who work hard enough. He and Bucky both grew up broke on the bad part of town, with busy parents. They had often went to sleep with just each other around with little or empty stomachs. But none of them had ever hit that kind of low. They had always worked hard to make themselves better than that. 

Tony was young and incredibly smart, surely he could find a job somewhere. He could be a waiter, or a cab driver or a bike delivery boy. There were jobs out there for those willing to work for it. It made the joyful, intelligent Tony he knew seem like a lie. This felt like a betrayal. He had thought Tony was better than that. 

Steve pays his bail because he knows Tony can't afford it, and he doesn't him staying in a cell with other men any longer than necessary. The kid is dressed in tight clothes and these men are criminals after all. Some asshole has a fist clenched in Tony's shirt collar, keeping him from running. He's trying to force the smaller man to his knees. 

Tonys face broke with hopeful relief when he sees Steve. Steve notices his cheek is a little scraped and bruised. There are more bruises at his throat. 

“Let him go, Walt.” Surprisingly the thug listens. He knows better than to mess with Steve Rogers. Steve features Tony over. 

He's limping. Steve can hardly look at him as he hands Tony his possessions-- the filled with fifties and twenties. Money he earned by selling his body to strangers. 

Steve thinks that sex should be shared between committed partners. It was something meaningful, not to be traded or bartered or whored. Steve isn't sure he could be in a relationship with someone with such skewed morals and values. Someone with no self pride and such low standards. 

“You're free to go.” Steve starts. “But I don't think it would be a good idea to see me or Bucky again. I apologize, I hope you understand.” Steve feels cold; Betrayed and disappointed at the loss of what he had hoped would be an amazing addition to his and Bucky's relationship. But he doesn't want someone like Tony in their lives-- it will only bring them heartache and trouble. 

“What?” Tony stares, shocked. Steve and Bucky had been so good to him before, surely they wouldn't just drop him like that? They have to understand, they're Brooklyn boys. Prostitution isn't exactly a new concept.

“You aren't even going to let me explain? You- you're just going to-- oh.” He sees Steves face, hard and cold. “Fine. Okay, fine. You know what? Fuck you, I don't need you, or your boyfriend. Or anyone else.” 

Tony leaves, walking like he is trying to hide a limp. Steve tells himself he doesn't care, because he knows how the boy earned that limp. 

Steve calls Bucky, tells him the new Intel. He keeps his voice steady. It's hard, Steve feels like he's in shock now that everything is said and done. Now that he's scared Tony away. He tells himself it's for the best. There's a whole saying about not bedding down with whores. 

“Tony got arrested last night. I paid his bail this morning, he just left.”

“What, did they make coffee illegal now? That's the only thing Tony is a danger to.” Bucky quips. He's walking his route already. 

“Soliciting. Rumlow booked him last night, working on the street.”

“Is he okay?” 

“Yeah. I mean, he was having sex all night, I would think he was doing pretty alright.” Steve snaps into the phone. 

“Come on, Steve. Don't take this personal. He can do what he wants, he isn't our boyfriend.” Bucky tries to be reasonable, though he is disheartened. And very, very worried for Tony. 

“No, but he is someone else's boyfriend, and he was out sleeping with other men all night. That's not the kind of morals I think he should have, in order to be with us.” 

“He's dating someone, so what? That didn't bother you before. We came on to him pretty strong the other night at dinner. Actually, we always do. What's the difference? We can talk to Tony, but other men can't?” Bucky sounds shocked. 

“It's different, Buck! We care about him, and he's just letting them fuck him. He knows they don't care about him, not like we do.”

“You're being ridiculous.” Steve can practically hear Buckys eye roll over the phone. “And really judgmental. I can't believe you're actually saying this.” 

“Don't you get it? Tony is in a relationship, and still sleeping around with strangers. He's cheating on his boyfriend. Why wouldn't he do that to us?”

“Because we aren't abusive dickheads, I think. And he wouldn't need to do that with us. We would take care of him.” 

“You don't know that. You know how impulsive Tony can be. Who's side are you on? It sounds like you don't care at all.”

“Because I don't, Steve. I don't care how many people he's slept with, or why. He's still Tony, Steve.”

“No, it's different.”

“No, you're being an ass, Steve.”

“I can't help the way I feel! He's such a different person that I thought he was. Why couldn't he just be a nice kid from Brooklyn?”

“Because he's not, okay? He's Tony!” Bucky throws his hands in exasperation. “You're being ridiculous, and I honestly don't want to talk to you right now. Call me again when you've figured your bullshit out. If not, I guess I'll see you tonight.”

Bucky looks for Tony on his route, but doesn't see him like he usually does. He stops casually by the shop, but he isn't there either. 

Bucky was beyond pissed that Steve scared Tony off. He was resolved to look for the kid in the morning, but that didn't help him now. They both sat up all night, discontent-- Bucky in the bedroom and Steve on the couch. Bucky resolved that Steve was banished from the bedroom and all sexy activities until Tony was back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird stuff with the chapters earlier! I swear I had so many amazing things typed up and then I got prompty ideas and things happened. Guys I am incredibly sorry. Please be gentle with the comments.

A/N: does everyone remember that the ** things are wanings for triggery scenes? No? Well the little ** things are to mark the beginning and end for violent scenes with potential triggers. Read at own risk. 

 

It it is less that Tony is afraid to show his face, and more that he thinks that his friends will shun him and his boss will fire his worthless ass. Because obviously Steve is going to tell Bucky. And of course they will tell Natasha and Clint, and then it will get to Pepper and Fury and everyone else that Tony is a fucking whore. 

So he doesn't go to work and he stays at home because he's even afraid to run into Bucky and Steve walking around somewhere. He stays inside and reads, and he walks to the library to borrow new books. Sometimes he goes to the gas station for a soda or more booze. Lately he's taken to hiding on the roof and stargazing-- he had borrowed a book from the library to study. It was freezing, but he could smoke a joint up there while he looked at the stars and it was passable, despite the cold. 

He tries to keep space between him and Ty, but it was hard since Tony was still around most of the time. It creates even more friction than usual, because everyone knows that Tony and Ty were oil and water. Ty's friends make matters worse-- they're over too often, being loud and obnoxious and pissing Tony off. He's already gotten in screaming matches with Ty over it, and it's only been three weeks since he quit his job at Shield. Since he was arrested and everyone found out Tony was a whore 

Halloween passed first. Thanksgiving was fast approaching at only three days away. During Tony's childhood, Stark Manor was beautiful during the holidays-- or so many people had told him. Lights and candles and tasteful and expensive decorations colored the ivory colored everything. Tony just saw an empty house with pretty baubles to distract from the obvious loneliness that surrounded the property. 

Tony had often been lonely growing up-- Howard hadn't put him in a private boarding school until he was 8, and had finally grown tired of trying to teach Tony. He thought the boy cried too much, was much too sensitive to bother teaching. So he shoved Tony at someone else, per usual. Howard was often on the labs that Tony was banned from, and Maria had a charity to run. The nannies were neglectful and often absent altogether. 

Sometimes Maria and Howard would make an effort, showing themselves for Thanksgiving dinner cooked by a chef. On Christmas they would leave Tony to his nannies to open the (few) presents he had received. Usually a set of tools from Howard and a meaningless bauble from Maria that she had probably bought in a hurry the day before. 

As Tony grew older the holidays became something to be not just tolerated by feared and then hated. Tony would come home for breaks, often to an empty house. Eventually his parents would arrive at their home, glasses ever-present in their hands. It wasnt long before Tony picked up the habit, too-- drinking expensive scotch or whiskey stolen from his fathers cabinet. They would all three separate to different wings of the mansion, but the alcohol consumed (by all three of them) made the fights inevitable. And so, so much worse. 

The Christmas before Tony had ran away had been the worst. Tony had been in the hospital for two days after Howard had finished with him. The private (bribed) doctors were discreet and would never even entertain the notion of accusing Howard Stark as a child abuser. Never mind testifying as witness, should Tony ever press charges to leave. Tyberius had picked him up at the hospital that time, and taken him back to school. The rest was history, of course. Tony had run away with him, desperate to leave his father's tyranny. 

The point was, holidays never went well for Tony. They don't plan anything for the holidays, the same as the year before. Holidays meant nothing to either of them, but it did add to the tension-- and therefore anger-- in the apartment. So, really, something was bound to break. And of course it was Tony. 

Tony's exhausted. He hasn't slept in two days, not because he was out working on the street. He just couldn't sleep. The loss of his job, friends, and Tucky was a harder blow than Tony was willing to admit. It resulted in a lot of excess anxiety, and Tony's sleep suffered. 

Tony's tired and his hands are shaking and he's hungry. He's in the kitchen trying to get water to boil to cook ramen. Ty and his band of idiots-- Adam and BJ and Craig-- are sitting in the living. They haven't had their fix yet because they've gone and pissed someone off and they're basically grounded until they learn to stop using their product away. It's making them snappy and violent, but Tony is starving. 

His head hurts and his eyes burn and his hands are shaking like leaves on a thin limb. He's going through his own withdrawal since his boyfriends supply was cut off. In the living room someone-- BJ-- starts complaining loudly. An argument breaks out, and the sound of shoving and yelling makes Tony's head pound. 

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Tony snaps at the two brunettes yelling at eachother. 

“What did you just say to me? Ty, you hear that lil’ ho?” BJ stalks toward him. Tyberius made it pretty obvious he doesn't care what anyone does to Tony, as long as Ty gets to help. And he was standing to the side watching the scene with glee. 

“Shut your mouth, Tony. You're forgotten your place again-- beneath me, taking it like the whore you've always been. Sounds like he's volunteering for stress relief.” Ty sneers. He's always enjoyed watching Tony hurt, even by someone else. 

“Back off. Jesus-- why the fuck are you even here? Don't any of your loser friends have a place you can go destroy?” 

“Come on and use that mouth for something other than complaining.” Someone-- Tony doesn't catch who-- suggests lowly. But Tony isn't a whore anymore, Steve had condemned it. Tony was trying to be better. 

“Fuck off, go use your fucking hand like you always do. Out, and far away from here.” Tony snarls. He isn't in the mood for this bullshit. The water is finally boiling beside him, but his attention is elsewhere. 

“Real mouthy for a bottom,” Craig leers at him. “Come distract us from the come-down. Ain't that your job?”

“No.” Tony says, heart keeping into his throat. He was done with that, with trading himself for cash or rent or favors. He was trying to be better than that. He was trying to be good for Steve and Bucky, even if they never wanted to see him again. Unfortunately, there were four of them, and one of Tony; it didn't seem like he had much say in the matter. 

**

Ty steps forward, as if to smack him, but Tony is quicker. He punches Tyberius in the mouth, his aim askew. He grabs at Tony, and the smaller man twists to get away. His arm catches the handle of the pot, boiling on the stove. The pot tips over the stove on top of them, covering their tangled legs in scalding water. They both scream in pain, but instead of letting go, Ty tightens his hold. 

His legs are burning, but he forces his eyes open just as Ty's fists start coming down on his face. He tries to shield himself with his arms, but try grabs a hold of his wrist and twists in a move that has Tony spinning. Only his arm doesn't move with him. 

Tony feels the snap, he thinks, more than hears it. There is a very distinct popping/snapping feel, like a dry twig; a split second later a white hot pain is shooting across his arm. He isn't sure which hurts worse, his scalded legs or his broken arm. Tony chokes on a scream, and it comes out more like a whine. 

“Let go!” Tony gasps. Amazingly, he does, and he lets Tony clutch the appendage close to his chest. “Fuck! Damnit, shit, fuck! You broke my arm, you asshole!” 

Tears of pain leak down his cheeks. Instead of sympathy or, God forbid, guilt this seems to anger Tyberius more. His friends are in the background cheering him on and he stomps his boots against Tony's curled body. Again and again the blows land, raising bruises and cracking vulnerable ribs with more little pops of pain. Tony's still screaming, trying to make the abuse stop. It goes on for long enough that Tony thinks he might die here-- Ty might beat him to death. 

So he's curled in a little ball of misery and pain, trembling. He's in too much pain to move, or even really register that his sweatpants are being stripped away from him and thrown across the room. The other monsters swarm on him like jackals, tearing at his clothes. 

Tony kicks at them, despite the pain. Someone pulls his broken arm away from him with another agonized scream. They hold him down to floor in the puddle of cooling water. 

“Stop!” Tony begs, struggling what little he can against pain and four men. “Stop. Please, please.” 

But they don't. They hold his hips down and Tony can't move his arm and he can't fight because the pain is simply too immense. His burned legs are spread, and their hands are rough on the searing burns. It hurts, everything hurts. Someone straddles him-- Tony can't see who. 

“C’mon, Ty. Fuck the little pussy. Show this bitch who's boss.” Someone laughs. 

“Don't! Please don't. Get off me. Get off of me!” The blunt head of a cock presses against his entrance. Tony screams. 

Ty fucks him like it's the first-- or the last-- time. That may be because he's coming down off of some sort of high, and he's furious in his withdrawals. But it hurts just as much as his arm does, if not more. The burns on his legs are pressed into the floor, moving and burning with each thrust. 

“Fuck.” Tony sobs, and Ty moans behind him. The men are either laughing at him or panting as they stroke their own cocks. The pain is like a loud static in his brain. It's crippling, and Tony wishes he could just pass out already. He begs for peace, for relief. He makes the mistake of begging for Steve, like the man would hear him and save him. In reality, Tony isn't sure Steve would save him now. This is what Tony is, after all.

An eternity later, Ty comes inside him in a hot gush. He can feel it between his legs, mingling with what must be blood. He's thankful it's finally over. 

“Who's next?” 

No. No no. Nonononono. “No. Please. Stop, no, no.” His voice is wrecked from screaming. They don't listen. Nobody ever has before, it's not like it matters. Except his wrist is broken and his legs are scalded in boiled water and his hips are throbbing. His ass hurts all the way up his spine. He lays limp on the floor. Tears rain silently down his cheeks. He stopped begging at least an hour ago. 

“Let him go. I need a pack of smokes, and then we can go again.” 

They leave the room in a pack, and Tony is left alone. They left Tony as a trembling mess on the floor. He lies as still as possible, hardly breathing. This is how he dies, he thinks. He thinks he's halfway there already. He wishes he would just die already.

There's a gun on the floor. Tony thinks he should grab it. Should probably put it in his mouth and swallow a bullet. Too soon the knob to the apartment turns. Tony lunges for the pistol with his good arm. Howard was an arms manufacturer, he had made it a point to teach Tony all about guns. It came in handy now, and he aimed in the middle of Ty’s eyes. Two of the men run. BJ hesitates beside Tyberius. 

“Put that away before you hurt someone.”

“That's the point.” Tony's voice shakes. “You raped me, you sick bastard.” 

Tyberius lunches towards him. Tony's finger moves on the trigger, and a shot rings out. BJ bolts. Ty drops to the floor. 

**


	11. Chapter 11

Steve and Bucky and Rumlow are the ones to answer dispatch first. They're the first responders to a report of a gunshot in apartment 6C of the building before them. They group in the lobby and Steve leads the way. Bucky follows after with Brock bringing the rear. The door is ajar. The familiar smell of blood goes down the hallway. Steve shoves it open with a bang. 

There are two bodies in the room, both lying in puddles of congealing blood. Steve recognizes one of the bodies on the floor. He recognizes Tony's hair and freckles. A cat-- Dummy, Steve thinks-- is sitting beside him, howling. 

Tony's eyes are closed and his thick lashes lie dark against his pale skin. The small man is lying so still Steve can't see him breathing. Steve forces himself to move, and Dummy claws at his arms. He gently pushes the cat away with one arm. Rumlow is checking the rest of the apartment. 

“Tony.” Bucky gasps behind him. 

“Oh, God. Please be alive, please, please.” Tony doesn't move when Steve checks for a pulse. His skin is warm and clammy and his pulse is thready. 

“This one's dead.” Bucky announces, checking the other man. There's a hole between his eyes, and a gun on the ground beside Tony. It's obvious who fired, and they could take one good guess as to why. 

“Tony is alive,” Steve breathes. “Buck, he's alive. Jesus-- get a blanket or something.” 

Tony was naked from the waist down, and covered in fluids Steve didn't want to guess at or name. He knew some of it was blood. He focused on Tony's face so he doesn't have to look at his battered body. Bucky brings a blanket from the bedroom. It isn't long before the EMTs arrive. They step aside and watch them work. They roll him onto his back, onto the gurney and he still doesn't wake. Steve can now see the broken arm that had been trapped under his body. 

Bucky was solemn beside him as they watched Tony taken away. He holds Steves hand like its the only thing keeping him there. 

“He's gonna be okay. I mean, he has to be, right? He has to be tougher than this. Stubborn little brat.” Bucky's voice is trembling but his hand is held steady in Steves. 

“I really hope so.” 

 

The hospital sucks. The chairs are hard and uncomfortable and the coffee is basically caffeinated mud. Tony would probably love it, but that's the worst part. Tony is lying in a hospital bed, and his doctor is super keen on the Doctor/Patient Confidentiality thing. Not that they need to be told, they had seen the bruises, the swollen and broken ribs on his back and chest. The blood between his thighs and puddled on the floor beneath him. His arm is in a red cast-- which was good, it was Tony's favorite color. 

Tyberius was dead, and it was obviously self-defense, though Tony would need to be interviewed by someone in the future. Steve and Bucky sit by Tony's side in his room writing their reports for Phil. He and Clint, along with Natasha and Pepper would be by later tomorrow. 

Bucky and Steve don't mean to stay all night, really. They mean to finish their reports and go home. They can come back in the morning. But they can't seem to make themselves leave Tony alone. Not when he looks so small in the white hospital bed. They don't say much, but when they do, it's mostly just to the nurse that comes in every hour or so. They flash their badges and she lets them stay without hassle. 

Oddly enough, the next time the door opens its Clint sneaking in, still in his pajamas. At least he put shoes on before leaving the house this time. And his ridiculously purple hearing aids. 

“Hey, guys. I thought I might find you here. Here.” He thrusts a bag at them. “Clothes and food. And this is coffee for you. I drank mine on the way over.”

“Thanks. Couldn't sleep?” 

“Tried. Woke up. Phil came, too. He's parking the Rover. Lucky’s with him.”

“You and that mutt,” Bucky rolls his eyes. 

“What happened to Dummy? Do you know?” Clint asks.

“We took him. He wasn't hurt at all, smart little cat. But he's back at our place. A vet gave us something for the shock of everything. You know, the shit that happened at Tony's, and then the move. The little guy was stressed. He was sleeping when we left, though.”

“Good. That's good.” Clint sounds distracted.

Phil comes in and sits next to his husband leaning against the wall to put themselves between Tony and the door. Knowing them, they had at least two weapons each hidden somewhere on their person. They sit in silence for a long time. Even Lucky was more subdued than normal. Bucky sees Clint take his hearing aids out. He looks every bit as miserable as the rest of them feel. 

“This is shitty.” Clint speaks. “We messed up.”

“No, I messed up. This is on me. I shouldn't have said those things to him. I shouldn't have thought them. I shouldn't have alienated him from his friends.” 

“Tony is in a hospital bed because his asshole boyfriend and his goddamn friends beat the shit out of him, and who knows what else. We all saw what that bastard was doing to him since we've met him, and we didn't do anything. We let him talk is into standing aside. I know that he's just hiding from Howard, but we should have done something. But we didn't, and that's on all of us. We fucked up, and Tony got the shit beat out of him.” 

“Not anymore.” Bucky says, scowling and sick to his stomach. Steve wraps an arm around his shoulder. 

“No, not anymore. We're going to try and fix this.”


	12. Chapter 12

They spend thanksgiving in the hospital with Tony. Natasha and Pepper packed turkey sandwiches and little Tupperware bowls of cold mashed potatoes that were still awesome. Tony still hadn't woken, though the doctors said he should any time. It was just up to Tony now. 

He wakes up two days after that. Bucky and Steve are eating lunch with Clint-- takeout from the pizza place they love. 

“That smells awesome.” Tony mummbles, so it comes out more like ‘th smewls assome.’ 

“Tony!” Clint drops his pizza on the floor, but Lucky cleaned the mess for him. Steve calls for a nurse and They huddle around Tony's bed. 

“Hey, darlin’. You with us?”

“Mmnn.” It sounds sort of like an agreement. “Hurts.”

A nurse comes in and ushers the others out. It's like a breath of relief to have Tony awake again. After the doctors have finished they let the group back in. Tony is still awake, but looks understandably drained. 

“So. What's the deal with you two here? Come to kick me while I'm down?” Tony scowls at them halfheartedly. 

Steve sighs. They're all tired. It's been a very long week for all of them. “I'm so sorry, Tony. What I said to you was so wrong. And also, none of my business. I shouldn't judge you for anything you've had to do to survive. Again, Tony, I am sorry for everything I've said and done to hurt you. I really hope you can forgive me. I've been awful to you.”

“Don't stress, big bird. We're okay.” Tony shrugs it off. 

“But we've been awful friends to you. We didn't see you for almost a month because we didn't even know where you lived.” Clint says. 

“We should have tried to help more, or-” Bucky starts, but Tony interrupts. 

“No, hey, stop right there. You should know by now that I rarely listen to anyone.”

“No, I'm serious. We should have stepped in, as people who care for you. Before things got bad, not after. And we failed you. And I swear, darlin’, Tony, it won't ever happen again. Not if we're around.”

“Wow… Uh, that was touching. Really. But I can take care of myself. You saw. I don't need bodyguarding. I'm not a fragile damsel.” Tony scowls at Bucky. 

“You kicked ass,” Clint quips. 

“You can absolutely take care of yourself. You showed everyone that. But you shouldn't have to. That's what your friends are for.”

“And we're so glad you're going to be okay, Tony.” Steve smiles at him fondly. 

“Great Hallmark moment, guys. But you're giving me hives.”

Tony gives his own report to a cop the next day. He was chatty and nervous the entire morning leading up to it, and Bucky and Steve both suspect that he didn't sleep the night before. He had made everyone go home not long after he woke up. 

This morning he looked tired, and nervous. He would probably run if he could. The uniformed interviewer kicks them out, and Tony refuses to let them I after she leaves. Bucky and Steve drive home, both disappointed by the day. Tony had flinched when someone touched him, and leaned away when he deemed them too close. 

This put an air of space between him and everyone else. The bigger the person, the bigger the space between them needed to be. Steve had to stand nearly across the too. Clint could pour him a cup of water, but not hand it to him. They both knew it would be a long, rough road, but with a little luck Tony would sleep through the night.

Tony stays at the hospital for a week after he wakes up. He complains the entire time-- about the food, the lights, the boredom, the lack of hot nurses. He never complained about the pain, or the loneliness that he felt, lying alone at night and unable to sleep. He's terrified Howard will find him, but he doesn't dare ask for help. Steve had already shunned him once-- what would he do when he found out Tony was Tony Stark? The boy with a million dollar reward on his head. The boy who fucked his father. 

It's 2am, and the nurse just finished lecturing him for not sleeping. She threatened to drug him up with sedatives if he wasn't asleep when she comes by for her next round in an hour. 

“Fuck this.” Tony hasn't been on an IV, or any monitors for days a few days now. He's been walking to the bathroom on his own, and the stitches on his chest and shoulders he could mostly take out himself. Surely Fury or someone could get the ones he couldn't reach-- he would figure something out. The stitches in more intimate places would dissolve on their own, the doctor had told him. 

He was allowed to wear sweatpants and loose clothes, and Bucky had brought by a bag of Tony's stuff from the apartment-- clothes, obviously, toiletries, and one of Steves old iPhones. He dresses and packs his shit, and doesn't even bother checking out with the desk. He gave them some fake address, and his ID is obviously fake, because he has no insurance and he can't afford a hospital bill like this. 

Tony has the apartment until January, and he takes advantage of it now. He sneaks out, walking gingerly, and rides the buses home. He gets home around 4 or 5, he isn't sure. There's still tape on the door and blood on the floor. He'll clean it later. For now he strips the bed, putting the sheets and blanket in a pile by the floor. He intends on burning it, alone with everything else Tyberius touched. He sleeps on the bare mattress with the purple blanket Clint had brought him at the hospital. He wishes it were that easy to rid himself of Ty's touch.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically schmoop

He must have dozed off at some point, because he wakes to his phone ringing on the mattress beside him. He doesn't bother looking, he knows he has five numbers in his phone 

“What?” Tony moans. God, he hurts. He misses the pain meds, but he knows he'll get addicted if he keeps taking them. 

“What do you mean ‘what?’ Where are you?” It's Steve. Of course it's Steve. 

“Apartment. Are you guys coming over?”

“Yes, Tony. We're on our way now.” Steve sighs, exasperated. 

“Good. And bring my cat. I want my cat, Stevie.” Tony tries not to whine, but he ducking hurts, okay? His arm and his ribs and his head are throbbing. He's hungry. He's exhausted. 

“Sure, Tony. Anything else? Is it too early for breakfast?” 

“Starving. Time is it?” Tony wonders aloud. 

“Only 7,” Steve admits. He had the sense to sound sheepish. “Sorry. We stopped by before work, and you weren't here. We got worried. But I'm glad you're at home.”

Steve has been making a valiant effort to be more considerate of Tony and his surprisingly sensitive feelings. But times like this make it hard. He wants to yell at Tony for checking himself out of the hospital before the doctor okayed it. For taking himself home when he could have called any of them-- he had all of their phone numbers programmed into the contacts. Steve knows, because he put them there his self. 

Instead of lecturing over things already past, they pick up pain pills-- the good kind, because he must be in a considerable amount of pain. They stop by their place to make a smoothy and some cut fruit for Tony, and to pick up Dummy and his things. They had bought him a little kitty tower and some toys and a collar and a carrier for car trips. 

“I can't believe he just left the hospital while he was still so injured.” Steve was ranting while Bucky drove. Today, his long brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun. Steve had to admit, he loved it more than the clean-cut look from high school or the army. 

“He hated it there. And if he made it home alone, he must be okay enough to be home. You've got to truth him to take care of himself, Steve. He isn't one of your soldiers. He's not one of the team, he's a civ. And we quit that black ops bullshit years ago-- for a reason, Stevie.” 

“I know. I'm working on it, I'm sorry.” Steve sighs. “It's hard, seeing him make bad decisions. Again and again.”

“Kid’s a flight risk, sugar. We have to take it slow with him. Show him we want it and we mean it. That we ain't gonna leave him.” Bucky says, barely glancing from the road. But he doesn't need to, for Steve to see how serious he is. “If you don't watch your temper around him, he'll never date us.”

“You're right. But I'll try.”

“I think you should go back to seeing Wanda.” Wanda was their young, but exceptionally talented therapist. 

“You do?” Steve is shocked. He hadn't thought it was that bad, but-- 

“I want you to go before it gets worse. Before you start staying up at the gym all night, trying to punch out your anger again. You should talk to her before it gets bad. I still call her once a week, you know. I think you forget that.”

“I did forget. And maybe you're right. If you want me to, I'll call her when we get home tonight.” Steve agrees. 

“I think it would help. What, you don't? You like Wanda.” 

“I do, it's just hard to talk about everything, to put it into words sometimes.”

“I just ask that try, Stevie, sweetheart. You know I love ya. And in with ya ‘til the end of the line.” Bucky says. 

“Yeah, honey. I love you too. And you're right, it would be good to talk to Wanda.” he grudgingly admits. 

Tony must have unlocked the door for them, and they let themselves in. He's back in the bedroom, groaning under his breath. It's more like a low whine. He looks sort of pitiful, collapsed on the bed. He looks exhausted and his face is all pinched from the pain. 

“Hey, guys. Make yourselves at home. Ignore the blood on the floor, the maids haven't come in yet.” Tony says sarcastically. 

“Don't worry, Tones. It's all good. Here, we brought you these.” Bucky sets out the fruit and the smoothie, and the pain pills. “We thought you might need these.”

“No,” Tony growls. “Get those out of here.”

“You have to be in pain.”

“I'll get addicted.” Tony admits. Steve must have let the cat out, because Dummy comes rushing in, in a ball off grey clumsy fluff. Tony immediately wraps him in his arms and buried his face in his fur. 

“Have they been taking good care of you, little Dummy? Yeah? Thanks for taking care of him.” 

“He's a great cat, it was no problem. Are you okay here by yourself?” Bucky wonders, hoping Tony will answer truthfully. 

“Yeah, I'll be A-okay, Bucknado. I've got my cat and this awesome smoothie. You guys can shoo to work. Go defend the city from Doctor Doom and Donald Trump. Hey-- and take the spare key on the counter there. Lock the door on the way out.” 

They do, and Tony drinks the shake with some aspirin. He falls back asleep to Dummy purring at his side.


	14. Chapter 14

They took care of Tony in shifts. Someone was always at Tony's helping to cook or clean or just to keep him company. 

Bucky is first. He walks into the apartment in the morning, with the spare key that their group took turns possessing. So he lets himself in just as the sun is daring to rise above the city scape. The little brunette is still curled in bed underneath a mound of blankets, with Dummy keeping guard on top of him. Tony's cast peaks out from underneath a blanket. Bucky considers waking him, but knows Tony could probably use the rest. He lets Tony sleep, but leaves the bedroom door open. 

Bucky cleans the dishes in the sink, and puts them on the rack to dry. He knows exactly what's in Tony's fridge-- he and Natasha had gone grocery shopping the afternoon after Tony checked himself out of the hospital. He scrambled eggs and bacon with mushrooms, peppers, onions, and cheese into two omelettes. 

Predictably, it's the smell of food that wakes Tony. Bucky can hear him shift in the bed before he pads out into the kitchen. Bucky puts his plate on the counter to get Tony a mug of coffee and some aspirin. The little brunette drinks the pills with scalding swallows of black coffee, eyes barely open a crack. When he drains it, he hands it wordlessly back to fill. He carries their coffees back to the couch with them. A movie is playing on the TV. 

Tony helps himself to the plated food on the table and comes to join Bucky on the couch he stares at the seat a while, contemplating how to sit so he won't tip his plate, but his stitches won't pull. Bucky nabs the plate from his hands so he can get comfortable. When he hands it back, Tony notices the pieces cut into bites. 

“Motherhood suits you, Barnes.” 

“That doesn't sound like a ‘thank you, Bucky, for cooking breakfast for my ungrateful ass.’”

“You must have wax in your ears,” Tony quips. 

“Yeah, okay.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “How did you sleep?”

Tony shrugs. He hadn't slept well at all. He had dozed for a few measly hours in the late afternoon before he was woken by his own body shaking. He had finally fallen asleep again only a few hours ago. He was surviving on cat naps. “Like the dead. You know, if the dead had a loud-ass cat waking them up every hour crying for treats. You and Thing Two spoiled my cat.”

“Thing Two? Am I Thing One? Was that really a Doctor Seuss reference?” Bucky wonders at Tony's maturity. 

“Well, you're sexier than any character Doctor Seuss could come up with. Maybe I should be making Baywatch and PlayGirl references.”

“PlayGirl?” Buckys eyebrows raise in question. 

“What?” Tony mumbles around a mouth full of food. He swallows. “So much pussy on PlayBoy. Which is great, don't get me wrong, but sometimes a guy needs a little variety. Don't judge me, Colossus.”

“Not judging.” They let it drop as Bucky pops a DVD in the layer. 

Tony heard the opening soundtrack to Doctor Who, and they settled in together. For lunch Bucky made grilled cheese. It's nice, having someone to take care of him. Tony hadn't realized how lonely he was, until he had Steve and Bucky around. People who care about him. It's a frightening new concept, especially with the threat of Howard hanging over his head like an impending storm.

Right now, Steve and Bucky were something solid to lean against. He had survived Tyberius-- something Tony hadn't dared to imagine. Now he someone watching out for him. Rhodey had tried, but Ty had made it clear Tony couldn't talk to his friend after they ran from MIT. It wasn't safe for any of them. Tony hadn't told Rhodey anything about Howard, but the man was smart. He could piece it together from Tony's various injuries, the way he flinched, the way he drank like a man twice his senior. 

Nobody knew the whole truth, though. Nobody but Tyberius. Maria had died when Tony was only ten. He had been away at boarding school when Jarvis called him. An overdose, of course. It was a ‘popular’ option. The funeral was tasteful. Howard was fucking trashed, but he gave a touching speech without a slur. The man was the king of functioning alcoholics. 

Tony had been smart enough to stay out of his fathers sight until he was shipped back to school. Tony's life became lonelier. Without Maria around to herd everyone into a picture-perfect family, Howard rarely had anything to do with his son unless he was yelling and hitting the boy. School was not much better. The students he studied with were older than him by far, and resented his genius, and his name. He was constantly being shoved and hit and harassed. They showed no sympathy toward him, after his mothers death. In fact, they laughed and told him it was his fault. 

Tony had come back from school for the summer-- he was in month one, of three. The mansion felt incredibly cold and lonely, despite his father's presence in one of the other wings of the estate. Tony was thirteen, and lonely and desperate. And he was so, so drunk. Did he mention lonely and desperate? Touch-deprived, and starved for affection. He would settle for attention, though. He hadn't seen his father except in passing, for weeks. Every time they spoke to each other they argued. It usually ended in a screaming match with Howard hitting Tony to shut him up. 

But now Tony was so lonely his chest ached. With determination, he stands and wanders through the maze of halls until he finds his father. The man is drunk in the lab. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all. He and Tony are even drinking the same brand of expensive scotch. 

It started just how everything else did-- with angry words, and yelling, and hitting. Tony's face was bruised, as he glared up his father. Howard held him by the hair, inches from his face, as he yelled. And Tony was just glad he had his fathers attention. But never his affection. So Tony had done the thing any desperately lonely and drunk boy would have done-- he mashed their lips together in a messy kiss. It tasted like booze and tension. 

It finished as violently as it had started. His father shoved him away as soon as the older man finished. Tony had felt numb and gross, but distinctly satisfied that he could catch his fathers attention. Finally. 

Howard had scream at him, told him how disgusting he was to want his father. How evil and wrong Tony was for making Howard want him. But it didn't stop their visits. Not even Tony's protests stopped it-- nothing did, until Ty took him away.


	15. Chapter 15

Things were great. They're fantastic, even. Tony has friends, and company. He isn't lonely until everyone goes home, and he has to sleep alone in his bed. Dummy is okay company, but he can't hold a conversation-- not like Steve or Bucky can. But for Tony is the okayest he has ever been, he thinks; even with the impending doom of Howard lingering above him. 

Obadiah shows up at Tony's door in the middle of the night. He knows tonight has to be the night, because Tony's been up for days-- he's been listening at the younger mans door for a while now. Since he learned that Tony was Tony Stark, from Ty’s loudmouth. Usually one of his friends was around to watch over him, but at nights the boy was all alone. Tony's sleeping for the first time in days when Obadiah comes in. 

Everything is dark, and he stops to let his eyes adjust. He sneaks into the open bedroom, drugs in hand. Tony struggles when Obadiah's weight settles on him, but the man catches his injured arm and twists-- Tony feels the bone grind and re break from its minute healing. Obadiah pushes the needle into his neck and depressed the plunger as quickly as he can. Tony goes limp beneath him. 

The boy might make a million a million dollars if returned to Howard Stark, but Obadiah knows of a place where the boy is worth ten times that. The Ten Rings-- an international human trafficking group. 

As it turns out, the genius prodigy Tony Stark was wanted for an array of reasons, by many different people. He was worth far more than a million dollars, to the buyers. Obadiah tossed Tony over his shoulder, ignoring the angry cat under the bed. 

 

Tony wakes up, inside a cage. As soon as his brain can work through the fog, and the pounding pain, he takes it in. The room he is in-- a basement or storeroom, maybe-- is lit with blinding fluorescent lights. The second thing he notices is the distinct lack of clothes, and the harsh cement poking his skin. Their air is frigid. The cage is big enough to stand in, but not maneuver, and was welded to the cement floor with anchors. Thick bars like welded rebar are spaced only six inches apart. 

There are other cages in rows around him. Most are empty, the ones around him certainly are, but Tony can still see other men and women in cages around the room. The other men and women are just as naked as Tony is. All of them are small-- weak and vulnerable, easy targets. All of them are pretty, too. Blondes and brunettes and red-heads, of all color and descent. But they are all pretty, and none of them look willing to be here. Tony is the only one without a set of metal cuffs binding his wrists in front of him, likely due to his cast. 

Tony's heart catches in his throat, even as he tells himself not to panic. He's Tony Stark, he gets kidnapped and held for ransom, not stripped and caged. Except he isn't Tony Stark anymore-- he is Tony Carter. He doubted anyone would be letting him go now. He focuses on the possibility of escaping. 

Tony's internal clock tells him he couldn't have been out more than a few hours, and there was a good chance he was still in New York, considering the size of this storeroom. He tests all of the bars to find them solid. There is nothing within reach to use to loosen the screws on the door, and he tears his fingernails bloody trying to unscrew one. The people around him scream and cry as they wake and go through the same process of realization that Tony did. He tries to offer support, but nobody listens to him. 

The captors leave Tony and the rest of the captives alone for hours. Long enough for Tony to succumb to the pain in his body, and doze into a nap. He wakes when the doors open with a bang.

A group of burly, steroid-pumped men file in. They work wordlessly, ignoring the cries and questions of the people in the cages. They separate into sections like they have done this before. Tony can't see much, but he hears the spray of water running. He thinks the captives are being given water until one of the men finally steps into view-- they're rinsing the captives down with hoses, letting the water pool and drain on the floor. 

The water is freezing, and Tony can't escape it, even as he tries to turn away. They soak him thoroughly from head to toe until he is a shivering, dripping mess. His bandages and cast are too wet, and it's so cold Tony wonders if anyone will die of hypothermia tonight. The men leave. The captives are left in peace for a few precious minutes until the doors open. 

A dozen men and women, all smartly dressed, file in now. They parade the rows of prisoners at their leisure. They comment on the captives appealing looks, their reactions. Tony watches, hands useless at covering himself from the prying eyes. All of the buyers pass by Tony without much of a glance, after they see the bandages and his casted arm. It's a relief, but it twists in his stomach as the selected captives are dragged-- cuffed, kicking and screaming-- out of the room. 

There are only a few people left around the room, and they are moved closer to Tony. Two other men, and one woman who looks too skinny-- Tony blames it on drugs. 

“Hey, is everyone okay?” Tony asks, because apparently nobody else is. They all answer yes. “I'm Tony. From Manhattan. What about you guys?”

One of the men is Bryan, from Chicago but in New York on his honeymoon. The other is Andre from New York. The woman is Ophelia, from Brooklyn. Like Steve and Bucky.

“Does anyone have a clip, or a pin, or anything? On the ground, in your hair-.” Ophelia shakes her head. Negative. The bars on their cages are just as tight as the ones on Tony's. 

“The police will come for us-- Lacey will have missed me by now, they have to be looking for us.” Brian stutters. Secretly, Tony is not so sure. 

“Yeah. Yeah, lots ‘a cops patrolling downtown. Lots of people going missing lately. There was a dozen people, you can't just lose twelve people. Someone has to find us.” Andre sounds like he's trying to reassure himself, but Ophelia voices Tony's opinion for him. 

“Bullshit. This has been going on for years, and nobody's done a damn thing. Nobody's coming for us.”

The door opens, but it isn't the police who step inside. It's two men and two women, accompanied by the guards. The two women are allowed to pick first-- the tall brunette woman picks Andre, and the stockier one picks Tony. Her nails are red like her expensive pants suit-- Tony doesn't think this woman bought him, but he backs away from her predatory gaze nonetheless. 

One guard step forward and pulls Tony's good arm through the bars. Metal hooks around his uncasted wrist, and he is bound to another anchor on the floor. A needle is stuck on his elbow, and his world goes fuzzy. His body goes limp, despite Tony's brain screaming at him to move. His muscles won't listen. His heartbeat gallops against his ribcage. Beside him, the others are getting the same treatment. 

Tony can't focus on them, though-- the woman straddles Tony's chest, and rakes her nails down his flesh. Blood blooms from the scratches like she had cat claws instead of a rather impressive manicure. He hears the struggles of the people around him, but the woman slaps at his face, nails scratching little lines. She wraps one hand around Tony's throat and squeezes so he can't breath.

He wants to struggle away, but the drugs are too strong. Beside him, some of the other captors are screaming. Brian is, with the man thrusting on top of him. Tony is a pliant and warm body beneath this terrible woman. And she takes every advantage of it.


	16. Chapter 16

It's Clint’s turn to Tonysit. He turns the key in the lock and heads to the kitchen with the biggest box of doughnuts he could find between his place and Tony's. It's early still, so Clint toes around quietly until Dummy comes running in, howling and staring at his empty food and water dishes. Tony never let the kitty go without food or water. A bad feeling crawls into his gut. Clint rights the situation before he goes to check on Tony. 

The bedroom is empty, and the bathroom abandoned. Tony's shoes are kicked by the door, and his wallet and phone are still on the bedside table. Clint hurried to call Steve and Bucky. 

 

 

Nobody talks the next day. Tony notes that they are still bound to the floors of their cells. None of them have food nor water. Bryan is a sobbing mess all morning. The man from the night before was anything but gentle, and Tony knows how much he must hurt. Tony's been there plenty of times, himself. 

Ophelia only seems to be concerned with telling them that she was right-- it's been 24 hours, and they're still here. It's like she's rubbing their nose in it. It's horrible, and her voice grates on Tony's nerves. She reminds him so much of that cruel woman that fucked him the day --night?--before. Their voices are both shrill and self-righteous. 

Andre is just as snippy as Ophelia-- the two argue for hours over everything. But listening to hem yell is better than listening to Bryan cry. Tony sits quietly, and looks around the floor of their cells, hoping one of their guests --clients?-- dropped something useful before. They did not. They are not fed, and they are not brought water. 

Throughout the night, more men and women are brought in. They all fit the set type-- small and beautiful. Weak targets. They are hosed off, and Tony notes the passing of the 24 hour mark with dread. He shivers weakly against the cold, and wonders at how many precious calories he must be wasting. Their captors don't feed them, after all, and Tony might be here a while. 

Tony knows what is coming next, but it doesn't help to prepare him. The only water Tony gets to drink is what he can swallow when the guard hoses him down. Tony chokes and sputters for breath against the onslaught of water. 

More buyers check the merchandise like they're shopping for a good steak. Once again, the good ones are taken away. Andre is bought. Ophelia is bought, though Tony has no idea why anyone would want her. Tony and Bryan are left, along with one other boy who won't speak, and won't uncurl from his spot on the floor. The guard comes, and the kid doesn't even put up a fight. Tony and Bryan are still cuffed from the day before. 

Bryan starts screaming when the guards bring the clients by. They're all male. Bryan won't shut up, even after the guards drug him. He screams and screams, tearing at Tony's frayed nerves. Tony can't help himself shaking in fear, as are the other two, he's sure. 

Tony might have gotten lucky with the woman before. The drugs settle into Tony's blood again, and he goes limp. This isn't new-- Tony shuts himself away, closes out the weight on his back, and the screams in his ears. 

“Shut him up!” One of the guards snaps. Tony can barely hear it over the slap-slap-slap of skin on skin. The mans thighs smack against Tony's ass as he is fucked. Bryan won't stop screaming. The guard is losing his patience. A shot rings through the building. The screaming stops. 

 

 

Tony cannot be considered missing for 24 hours. That, and he is operating under a fake name. Natasha told Bucky and Steve everything when she told them about her mission-- that was before they actually met him, of course. But his alias causes some trouble in finding him, because if Tony Stark is found by anyone, he will inevitably be shipped to Howard-- alive or dead. And why would anyone go through such great lengths to kidnap Tony Carter of they didn't know he was Tony Stark. 

48 hours pass, and there is still no sign of Tony. Clint and Natasha pull all the stops from their agency, and Phil pulls all the strings he can to access cameras and other things. Steve and Bucky call back to Maria Hill to pull a favor with Homeland. 

They visit Obadiah Stane, the building manager. The man is fat and balding and has the air of a man who thinks he is important. They ask him about Tony-- acting with extreme bias, because the man is obviously a criminal. He lets something slip-- just a stumble in his alibi, but it's all Bucky needs. He has the fat bastard pinned to the wall by his throat. This is not Officers Rogers and Barnes. This is the two furious Brooklyn boys who were trained to kill with their bare hands. 

“Okay, you pudgy son of a bitch. I will ask this one time. Are you will answer.” A knife point sticks into his stomach, ready to cut him with a flick of Buckys wrist. “Where is Tony Carter?”

“Oh, is that who he told you he was? No, Tony Carter is a lie-- he doesn't exist. It's Tony Stark. He played both of you.” The man tries to get the verbal upper hand. 

“We don't give a shit what his name is. He's OURS. We don't care where he comes from.”

“I returned him home, where he belongs.” He's lying, Bucky knows it. The knife pops past the skin to finally draw blood. 

“Easy, Buck.” Steve tries warning Bucky to calm down. 

“He's lying.” Bucky all but growls. 

“You can't hurt me, you're cops. I'll sue. I'll tear you apart like I tore that slutbup, every time he was behind on rent.” Obadiah tries to threaten them. Bucky drives a fist up into the mans bulging stomach. 

“Okay. One last time-- who did you sell Tony out to? And know that if you're lying to me, I will skin you alive and savor every scream you make. Trust me, I can make it last all night.”

“Ten Rings. The Ten Rings group.” 

“You sick, twisted son of a bitch!” Bucky smacks Obadiah's head into the wall. He lets the man elbow him in the face, hard enough to bruise, before he loosens his grip. Bucky lets the man get a few steps down the hall before he fires. Obadiah's body crumbles to the floor. 

“Jesus Christ, Buck.” 

Bucky shrugs. “He was a human trafficker, fleeing arrest.”


	17. Chapter 17

Bryan's body is gone the next morning, but the blood stays. It's a small haul today-- only five people are brought in and caged. Half of yesterday. Tony learns that the other boys name is Kristoff, who was vacationing here with his parents from Germany. Tony tells him to stay strong, but his words feel hollow; meaningless. So they sit, silent, while the newcomers wail and scream. Most will be gone by this time tomorrow. Tony can't help them yet, he has to make it out of here alive first. 

The guards come and spray them down with a hose. The newcomers shriek under the cold spray. They finally wash Bryan's blood away. Tony eyes the new buyers as they are escorted inside. He wants to put names to faces when he gets out of here. So he sees Howards face the second the man walks through the door. His father doesn't bother lingering at any other cages, but comes straight to Tony. 

“No-- not. Not you.” Tony stutters. His fathers eyes crawl over his bare and abused body. 

“I can't say I'm surprised you wound up being someone else's whore,” is what Howard says, in lieu of any normal greeting.

It's been almost three years since Tony last saw his father. They had fucked like it was a punishment, Tony was sure Howard would kill him... Seeing Howard so close when Tony is sober is … frightening, he decides. The man is bigger than Tony remembers, his hair is greying in places, and there are more wrinkles in his face. But he is every inch the cruel man that Tony remembers. 

“Stand up, for godsake.” Howard snaps. Tony pulls at the cuff keeping him on the floor. Instead of waiting for a guard to being a key, Howard pulls his gun. He shoots the link and it breaks-- Howard had always been an excellent shot, even with his drinking. Tony stands on shaking legs. It seems that the guard knows better than to keep Howard waiting. He hurried forward with the key and a drug already.

“We won't need that,” Howard waves the sedatives away. “Will we, boy?”

“No, sir.” Tony's voice shakes. He just spent two-- three?-- days here, but it's his fathers presence that makes his voice shake. If Kristoff now recognizes either of the Starks, he wisely says nothing. 

Tony stands on shaking legs. His broken arm is throbbing in pace with his heart. He follows Howard out the door like an obedient mutt. He knows better than to run now. He follows Howard, still naked, to the waiting car. The drive is quiet-- Howard works wordlessly on his phone, the very picture of important businessmen. Save for Tony, naked as his feet. He knows he is too dirty to sit on the rich leather seats. 

They board Howard's private jet in the same quiet as before. Tony feels his hope die as the jet gains altitude. 

 

 

Maria comes through, better late than never. Steve and Bucky don't ask how, but she has the location of a Ten Rings group in New York if Steve can get the men for a raid. It takes all of fifteen minutes for Phil to round up the manpower, with Steve leading.

Natasha and Clint are in the wind, chasing their own trail. If Howard Stark is not currently involved, there is little doubt that he would be soon. They were trying to get a legal reason to enter his home-- waiting, impatiently. 

They wait for Steve and Bucky to arrive and coordinated men around the parameter. On his GO, the men stormed the building in a flurry of black clothes, and gunshots. Screams and yelling were nearly drowned in the gun fire. The guards shoot back with their own weapons, but the fight is over within minutes. The guards are dead, the clients in cuffs. 

The scene that greeted them was not pretty. Rows of 6’ by 6’ cages were welded to the floor. There were two men men in separate cells, one man and a woman caught in the act. Five guards. Neither of the men are Tony.


	18. Chapter 18

Tony sleeps through the ride; he doesn't wake until Howard kicks at him. He comes awake with a yelp of pain as his broken arm is hit. 

“Get up. Hurry up, I don't have all night to herd you around.” Howard growls, hitting the back of Tony's head as he passes. He shoves Tony into the trunk of the car. He hasn't bothered with a driver for obvious reasons, and the man flying the jet would be dealt with shortly. The drive is short, but the trunk is small, and his body throbs from all of the recent abuse. Tony can't see or feel anything around to help his escape. Howard would not make such petty mistakes. 

If Tony lives through this, he's getting as far away as he can. Start a farm in the middle of nowhere where his father would never find him again. Call himself Robert. No, if he lives through this, he wants Bucky and Steve-- Tony could live anywhere in the world, as long as he had his two badasses by his side. But, God, that is a BIG if. Howard is calculating, and cold, and furious. Tony knows he won't last the night. 

The car slows to a stop, and Tony prepares to fight. If he goes into that house, he won't come back out alive. The trunk pops open, but before Tony can make a move Howard shoves a taser into his stomach. Tony convulses, and only his clenched teeth keep him from screaming. It feels like fire burning up his muscles, charring his bones. His father drags him out by his hair, and into the estate. Tony sort of staggers after him, but his muscles are uncooperative. Howard lets Tony drop to the floor only so he can jam the taser into Tony's side again. The boy drops, muscles spasming. It's worse the second time, his are still aching from only a few moments before. 

Howard grabs one of the canes by the door-- sturdy, solid wood with the metal tip at the bottom and a large knob at the handle. And he beats the hell out of Tony with it. The blows rain down too fast to stop, or scramble away. The best Tony can do is curl to protect himself. He doesn't stop until he is satisfied that Tony can't run.

“Stand up,” Howard barks down at Tony. He obeys on autopilot, his consciousness doing its best to hide from this abuse. It's a struggle to stand, and his knees kept buckling under him. Howard, satisfied with the beating dealt, and disappointed at his son's weakness, finally just grabs Tony by the arm. He drags him upstairs, to the top floor, into Tony's old bedroom. Tony looks around, and sees that nothing has changed except for the four new metal cuffs on the bedposts. He lets Tony drop to the floor. 

“Get on the bed.” 

“N-N-No.” Tony's voice shakes. 

“Anthony, get on the bed. Now.”

“Go to hell!” It sounds a little stronger than before. Maybe he can at least pretend not to be afraid anymore. “You're sick! You're a monster!”

Howards face contorts in anger again. He kicks Tony's chest, and the boy falls back to the ground. He kicks him while he's down, several of the blows hitting his head. The rest hit his back, his arm, his bare legs. He doesn't stop until Tony lies limp and shaking. His rage is ebbing away again, but he still picks his son up by his throat. The boys legs scramble, and fail, to hold his weight. 

“Did you really think you could run from me? Was it your idea, or that Stone Neanderthal?” He shakes his son like it will make the words stick. “You're a leech, just like your whore mother! You expect someone to just take care of everything for you. So you never have to lift a finger, never have to work for anything. Let someone else fight your battles, right?” 

He slaps Tony, the boys vision already spinning. His lungs are screaming for air, but he can't even speak for the hand fisting his throat. 

“You know what happens to whores. Nobody likes a slut who pretends they don't like it-- now get in the fucking bed, you ungrateful little bitch.” 

Howard throws him onto the bed, where he bounces, trying to scramble away. His mind is screaming through the pain, nonono. His father's weight presses him down into his stomach, forcing Tony's ankles and wrist into the bracelets. The casted arm is twisted behind his back. Tony's screaming, his begging, does nothing except fuel Howard's anger. 

Howard grabs Tony's face. “You look just like that whore. You make me sick.” 

Howard forces Tony's face into the pillows, suffocating him. He heard Howard say something in warning, but Tony can't understand over the rushing blood in his ears. His heart is pounding double in his chest. His father's weight settles on Tony's thighs. Something inside breaks. Tony is Howards again. He knows what happens next. 

 

Natasha and Clint call Steve and Bucky as soon as Howard's black car pulls up the window driveway. The old man forces someone out of the trunk-- Tony, naked and disoriented after the taser. They rendezvous with Steve and their team, but don't waste time strategizing. Steve and Bucky settle for storming the gates, with Natasha and Clint at their backs. Bucky splits off with Natasha, and Clint follows Steve. 

Steve and Clint get to the bedroom first. Steve doesn't know what to expect-- maybe a fight, maybe a body, maybe Tony beaten into the ground. He didn't expect this. No, this is different. Steve doesn't have words for what this is. The slap of skin on skin. The hushed whimpers, muffled only by the pillow. The rough pants of air and growls escaping from Howard Stark. The older man leans over Tony, whispering threats into his ear. 

“Back away from Tony,” Steve orders. Their guns are trained on the mans head. 

Howard laughs. “A genius’s son. Yet this is the only thing he's ever been good for. You'll have to wait your turn, officers.

“Get off of him!” Clint yells, begging to hear anything other than the old man's thrusting hips. He hasn't stopped moving. Tony makes quiet, painful little noises with each shift. 

“You boys don't know who you're messing with,” Howard warns them. He gives a particularly rough thrust, and Tony jolts with the force. He gives a wounded little noise. 

Howard moved for the gun by his leg-- it just have been in his pants pocket. Except he doesn't aim it at Steve and Clint. He aims it at Tony's back. 

“You think I won't kill him? He's worthless anyway, he's nothing. Can't even fuck good.” He grinds his hips deep against Tony's ass. He sobs. 

“Tony?” Steve asks. Clint is waiting for a go-ahead, but they're both afraid of hurting Tony. 

“Make it stop,” Tony whispers, now that his head is free. “Steve, please.”

Three shots ring in rapid succession. Steve and Clint fire nearly the same second, their caution snapping. Howard pulls the trigger into Tony's back as his body jerks from the impact of the shots. Both figures go limp on the bed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys I rushed this because I'm so over it. I'm so so sorry. This is really violent and, frankly, half assed. Again, sorry. I may come back eventually to do edits... Maybe....

“Oh god. Tony!” They rush to move Howards body. They can't tell Tony's blood from Howards, but he has a weak pulse. Clint hurries to find something to press against the wound-- it looks like the bullet missed its mark, but not by much. 

“We need medical, were too floor of the west wing. The second door on the farthest hallway. All the way at the back. Overlooking the garden. Hurry up, guys. Our vic’s been shot.” Clint calls in using Steves radio. He knows Natasha and Bucky will hear it. Surely enough, they are back within minutes. Steve is trying to stop the bleeding, but the cloth is soaking-- there is too much blood. 

Clint leaves to lead the EMT’s back to them. They usher Steve and the rest away while they work, shouting jargon that goes over Steves head. They rush Tony to the ambulance, and then to the hospital. Steve and Bucky, Clint and Natasha stand outside sharing their report when Coulson walks in. Suddenly the process gets ten times easier, and they're free to go. Of course, they rush to the hospital after Tony. In the end, Natasha goes home to get everyone clean clothes, and food, while the boys waited for news. This was an old routine by now, but it did nothing to lessen the dread. 

This was the second time in a month Tony was admitted to hospital under critical condition. He was still recovering from Tyberius-- and they still hadn't caught one of the men that had raped Tony. They didn't know if he would make it-- Tony was stubborn, but after everything else that's happened… 

“Howard was his father,” Steve whispers into the silent room. Everyone's head turns toward him. “How could he do that? To Tony, his own son?”

Clint shrugs, and looks away. Abusive parents, Clint had plenty of experience there, but this was so far out of his territory. 

“It's a power trip.” Natasha explains. Her voice is cold only so she doesn't sound as disgusted as she feels. “And a punishment. Tony dared to leave him-- he disobeyed. Howard was reasserting dominance.”

“Christ.” Clint looks like he might be sick. Nat rubs his back in her usual controlled way. Steve and Bucky look furious, and a little nauseous themselves. 

“The world isn't cruel, it's the people in it.”

They stay by his bed for days. Days turn to weeks. His body heals, leaving a ragged scar beside his heart where the bullet had exited. The doctors said it was nothing short of a miracle that the bullet missed his heart-- that he didn't die from the blood loss. They had to revive him on the table once. But now the only thing left to heal is Tony's fucked up little brain. 

They bring in cards and stuffed animals, and balloons that they replace when they sag down. There is a corner specifically for the huge teddy bear that Clint and Phil bought him. The rest of the stuffed animals are piled around the beast. There are blankets brought from home-- another purple one from Clint, a red and gold from Steve and Bucky, a soft black and red one from Natasha. Bruce dropped off a large, soft body pillow-- ‘sorry, they only had green.’ 

Steve and Bucky sit in the room, in chairs pulled right next to the bed. They're playing poker with worn cards and valentines candy. They have the weekend off to themselves, and they want to spend it here. They only leave Tony's side when they absolutely to-- to work, to shower, to sleep. Sometimes they just sleep in his room. Tony looks frail in the hospital bed-- pale and still, too quiet for the once boisterous man. 

Tony wakes up slowly, to the sound of background jazz and laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the crappy ending but take it as you will


End file.
